


Monochrome

by JDominique37



Series: The Storm, the Stars, and the Skies (Kuroko no Basuke Stories) [3]
Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Bullying, F/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Original Character(s), Past Relationship(s), Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-17
Updated: 2016-03-26
Packaged: 2018-05-14 10:34:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 32,757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5740363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JDominique37/pseuds/JDominique37
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mayuzumi Chihiro is being annoyed by a first-year. She won’t stop talking. He considers whacking her on the head with his light novel. But . . . he has to admit, there’s something appealing about her. So, against his better judgment, he speaks back.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, everybody! New story time. This time, we're going for a Kuroko no Basuke novella. KnB is one of my favorite shows ever (the characters are super, super amazing), and so, of course, I had to write some fanfiction for it. This whole story has been drafted, but only very lightly edited. Not a lot of description or detail, but mostly dialogue and character. It features a character that, personally, I don't think gets enough attention: Mayuzumi Chihiro. He's a really interesting person to me, and I wish we got to know him better. I mean, the guy's a jerk, but he's clearly got another side to him, too. And so, because I love OC stories and romance as well . . . well, you can probably guess what type of story this is. 
> 
> Without further ado, here's the prologue! I hope you enjoy, and thanks for reading!
> 
> Disclaimed: I do not own Kuroko no Basuke. Just my OC and the story.

I did everything within my abilities to prepare for this fresh start.

On the first day of high school, when I stood before the large double-doors of Rakuzan High, I promised to myself that everything would be perfect. I would make friends. Rakuzan High would be better. It . . . would not be the disaster of middle school.

Yet . . . even as the first semester passed, I found that changing one’s personality is not as easy as changing one’s appearance.

Sometimes, I can hear his voice in my head. My ex-boyfriend, taunting me about how I thought I could run away from it. From him and his stupid views of life. He would say, “You think that dying your hair, changing your clothes, and going to some fancy school is enough to separate yourself from your old image? Don’t kid yourself, Tsukiko. You will never be anything more than what you’ve always been. And don’t you even try.”

I thought I could do it.

He never allowed me to dye my hair, even though I thought it would be cool, even though I thought that it looked daring and fresh. So I figured that maybe, if I added teal streaks to my black hair, that that would be my first step in forgetting him. In moving on. In creating a fresh start and a new future for myself.

But when the first day passed . . . and the next few weeks . . . the whole first month . . . and then, the first term ended . . .

I realize that I never had any hope, after all.

He was right. I can’t change who I am. I am, and will always be, the same person. Kiyabu Tsukiko, entirely normal, completely average and ordinary. Nothing about her that causes her to stand out. Nothing about her that might make you look twice.

It’s a miracle I was able to get a boyfriend in the first place.

And it’s probably not surprising that he dumped me. Through a text message. I haven’t seen him since.

It’s as the second term starts that I’ve resolved myself that I’ll never be able to change who I am. Even so, I really have grown attached to my dyed hair, and I still want to try and be a light to others. So, with my re-newed teal-blue hair, I walk into Rakuzan High for my second term of high school.

It’s on that day that everything begins to change.

I am running. I am running, because _they_ are chasing after me, and I need a bit of peace and quiet, a place to myself.

I don’t know where I am going, but I race up some stairs. More and more steps, until my breath is ragged, my heart pounding. Finally, I reach a door. I grab the handle and jerk it open, and —

I’m on a roof. I breathe in the fresh, clean air, and close my eyes.

Free. Finally. I am alone.

. . . or not.

It’s only after a moment that I realize there is a boy sitting near the edge of the roof, a light novel in his hands, reading intently. He doesn’t notice me. Or if he does, he doesn’t look up at me.

Wait. A light novel? I squint, hoping to catch sight of the cover, but am unable to.

But still . . . if he reads such material . . . I glance at the boy. He looks a little older than me, a second- or third-year probably. He has light gray hair, and a slim, but athletic-looking body. And while he seems invested in the novel, he seems to be the type who’d be heartily disinterested in everything else.

I decide I want him as my friend.

And so, I make that first step that day.

Maybe one of the reasons I decide to approach him is because part of me is still torn up from my boyfriend’s rejection. Maybe it’s because I desperately want someone with whom I can share a common interest. Maybe it’s because I just want someone I think won’t ever like me, but will just be my friend; and someone I won’t like, either, but will treasure as a confidant.

I just . . . want a companion.

Because for as long as I’ve known, such a thing as friendship has escaped me.

So I take the first step, my feet almost moving of their own will. And before I can stop myself, I call out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prologue may be a little confusing. But things'll clear up eventually. I believe there are thirteen chapters in this story (told from Mayuzumi's POV), plus the prologue and epilogue (which are told from Tsukiko's POV).
> 
> On a side note, I also have a few other KnB canon character/OC stories written out/planned out/ideas for. I'm still working on editing those, too, because some of then need a lot more revision than this one! (Right now, the ones I have drafted are Midorima/OC and Aomine/OC, and I also drafted a Kise/OC - my favorite character - but wasn't happy with that one, so now I'm replanning one that may also involve a parallel storyline with a Kasamatsu/OC. And I'd like to do an Akashi/OC, too. And I'm way too ambitious and I really don't have time for all these extra stories, but man, I want to write them so bad.) 
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoyed! Thanks for reading! Any reviews are appreciated (I mean, who doesn't love reviews?). 
> 
> ~ J. Dominique


	2. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here's chapter one. We get to really meet our two main characters. Hope you enjoy!

There is an annoying first-year staring at me.

She is crouched down before me, fidgeting, and what’s worse? She won’t shut up. Her eyes are wide as she stares at me, and even though I’ve been continually ignoring her for what must be nearly five minutes, she hasn’t left.

“W-what are you reading?” she asks for the I-don’t-know-what-time-it-is-th time. “I read a lot of light novels myself, so there’s a chance I’ve read it before.”

I really couldn’t care less.

“Do you come up here a lot?” she asks. “Do you read a lot? Are you a third-year? What’s your name?”

Again: _she won’t shut up_.

I flip to the next page, but then I have to return to the previous page when I realize I actually hadn’t been reading it. Stupid girl. She’s distracting me.

“I’m Kiyabu Tsukiko,” she says. She may have already said that. I don’t know. I don’t particularly care, either. “I’m a first-year. Ah, I probably already said that. Um . . . Rakuzan is really nice, isn’t it? It’s a really fancy school. I was kind of surprised by how high-end it is.”

I close my book with a snap and lay it down. Her expression lights up.

I say, “I’m attempting to read, thank you.”

The smile on her face falters for a moment. “I-I’m sorry,” she says. “I mean, I noticed that. And I didn’t mean to interrupt you, but . . . I thought that maybe we could be friends. Since we both read light novels.”

“Why would I want to be friends with you?”

She looks slightly taken aback. Then the smile appears again, like it never disappeared. “Are you a second-year?” she asks.

“Third-year,” I say, before I can stop myself.

“Ah, so you’re going to graduate next year? Do you know what college you’re going to yet? Do you have any idea of what you want to do with your life?”

I stare at her. What a pain.

She glances down at the light novel in my lap, the cover now face-up, and her eyes light up. “I _have_ read that one!” she says. “It’s great, isn’t it? You’re about halfway through . . . so you haven’t gotten to the really good part yet, but the characters are already really well-developed, yeah? The action scenes are written pretty well, too. Don’t you think?”

I cock my head. “Mmm. Whatever.” I pick it up once again, find my spot, and return to reading.

She doesn’t leave, like I hoped she would, but continues to stare at me and the book. I sense her discomfort, though, because she continues to fidget. Maybe if I continue to ignore her, she’ll become so uncomfortable that she’ll eventually disappear.

I decide that will be my strategy from now on.

The problem is, our lunch period ends before she gets uncomfortable enough to leave, so we end up walking down together. Now that I’ve had to put my book down, she chatters cheerfully. She asks me for my name a few more times, and I don’t answer. She also gives me her name a few more times, which I promptly make sure to forget.

Finally, we part ways, her going to the classroom hall for the first-years, while I head to the one for third-years. She waves good-bye to me. I ignore her, and by now, I don’t think she’s surprised by it.

The next day, I’m not really surprised either when she shows up on the roof during lunch with her very own bento.

“Hello, Senpai!” she says, waving with one hand, the other holding her bento. I hope she doesn’t drop it, because it seriously looks like she might.

“Yeah, no need to reply,” she says, her usual note of cheerfulness present. “I’m good with being ignored. I don’t mind being ignored at all. I can be ignored all day.”

My eyes read over two lines. I then have to re-read them because I can’t comprehend anything I see when she’s around.

“Hey, Senpai, do you even eat lunch when you’re up here? If you’re hungry, you can have some of mine. I have a lot of extra. Rice balls and sushi and some of this yummy-looking stuff . . .”

“Hey, Senpai. That’s different light novel, yeah?” She twists her head upside down to view the cover. “You already finished the other one? How’d you like it? I don’t think I’ve read this one . . . How is it so far? You’re already really far! You must be a fast reader. I’m not too fast myself . . . about average, I’d say.”

“Hey, Senpai, do you ever read manga or watch anime?”

“Hey, Senpai, are you ever going to tell me your name?”

“Hey, Senpai, are you in any clubs? A sports club, maybe? Perhaps you do swimming! Haha. No . . . maybe the literature club! That’s probably it. Or perhaps you’re more artsy? Calligraphy, maybe? I haven’t joined a club yet . . . don’t know if I’m going to.”

“Hey, Senpai —”

I slam the book down with such force that she starts and drops her rice ball onto the ground.

“Hey, Senpai, look what you did!” she complains.

“Mayuzumi Chihiro,” I say with as much calmness as I can muster.

“Huh?”

“My name is Mayuzumi Chihiro.”

Her eyes widen. Then her grin appears and she says, “That’s a great name! Mayuzumi-senpai! I love it.”

“No, I do not eat lunch up here. I usually don’t eat lunch here. Yes, this is a different light novel. Obviously. I’m a very fast reader. I read some manga, watch some anime. I am in a club, not that you need to know. Were those all of your questions? Because, seriously, I don’t want to answer any more. And answering those were just to shut you up.”

Her smile broadens even more, despite what I’ve just said.

“That’s great!” she says. “How are you not starving? I’m always so hungry when lunch time comes around _and_ when I get home! Will you really not tell me what club you’re in? I’m really curious now.”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“What club do you think I should join?”

“Don’t care.”

Despite my answers, her eyes are shining.

What is with this girl?

“What’s your favorite subject?”

“Don’t have one.”

“What’s your best subject?”

“Not worth knowing.”

“What teacher is your least favorite?”

“The one who gets on my nerves.”

“Do a lot of people get on your nerves?”

“Just the first-years with teal streaks in their hair.”

She lets out a peal of laughter, and for a moment, I wonder if she’s crazy. Did she even understand what I just said?

She says, “You’re hilarious, Senpai. I mean . . . you’re so refreshing.”

Refreshing?

“Different than everybody else,” she clarifies when she sees my face, which must look somewhat confused. “You don’t put up with anything that you think is a waste of time. I kind of admire that, honestly. I wish I had the ability to say no to people.”

“It’s probably not as hard as you think.”

“Maybe not,” she says, looking thoughtful. “You should teach me a thing or two, though.”

“Why should I?”

“Well, we’re going to be friends, aren’t we?”

“Who said?”

“You’re talking to me. And friends talk to each other.”

I’m about to reply, but then snap my mouth shut.

She laughs again and says, “It’s hard to not talk to someone when they talk to you.”

“You’d be surprised,” I say. “I have superior abilities in the art of ignoring people.” And being ignored . . . but that’s not the point.

“I believe it,” she says. “You pretty much ignored me the whole time yesterday! And most of today! I’m glad you’re not ignoring me now, though.”

“Who says I’m not?” I ask, snatching my book up and turning back to my spot.

“Mayuzumi-senpai,” she says, and there’s a note of amusement in her voice. “You really _are_ kind of funny, you know? Are you trying to be tough or something? Are you tsundere or what?”

“Definitely not,” I snap. “I just don’t like to be bothered by anyone. And definitely not annoying people like you.”

“You can whip insults out at me all you like. I’m used to it. And yours are hardly that bad.”

I lean back, slightly disconcerted by her words. Despite myself, I find myself asking, “What do you mean?”

She cocks her head. “What is this? _You’re_ actually asking _me_ a question? Now, then, would you like to know how it feels? For me to not answer you when you’re curious about something?”

I scowl at her and she grins back.

“In truth, though,” she says, and her expression darkens somewhat. “. . . I don’t want to say.”

“Seriously?”

“Yes, seriously. And I’m not just trying to parrot your own words back at you, though that _would_ be ironic. But no, that’s the truth. I’d rather not talk about it.”

“Fair enough,” I say, shrugging. “It’s not like I care about you that much, anyway.”

“Wow, thanks, Senpai. You’re such a great friend.”

“We’re not friends.”

“You’ve said. But you’re still talking to me.”

“I —”

“Don’t worry, Senpai. I know I’m irresistible.” She sends me what I suppose is supposed to be her best winning smile.

“No. You’re just irritating.”

“So mean, Senpai! So mean!”

“Rather, I like to think I’m honest.”

“Honest can be another synonym for mean!”

“Whatever. Just let me read in peace.”

“But we’re having such a good conversation!”

“This is what you define as good?”

“Totally! It’s deep and full of thoughts and, you know, I finally got your name! Mayuzumi-senpai!”

I send her a look and she actually shuts up for once.

It doesn’t last for long, though.

“Actually, Senpai, I just looked up that light novel you’re reading, and it turns out, I _do_ know it. I’ve read the manga and the anime, they’re just under a different name! Who knew, haha? Have you read the manga or watched the anime? What do you think of adaptations of light novels? Do you originally prefer the originals? Personally, I think it can go either way. Sometimes the original is better, and sometimes the adaptation can be surprisingly good.”

_She won’t shut up._

I close my book, and her eyes light up at the prospect of me answering her questions. While that’s what she assumes I’m going to do, I fully have the intention of whacking her alongside the head with the light novel.

But then I look at her.

Really look.

She looks like a typical first-year. Round-faced, her eyes large and innocent. Her skin is a bit pale. She’s a little short, a bit petite. But most noticeable of all, of course, are the teal streaks in her black hair.

She’s cute, I suppose, in a little-girlish way.

But that’s not what makes me answer. More so, it’s the look in her eyes.

It was a mistake to look at her, I realize.

Because her gaze is so . . . _earnest_. Innocent. Curious and happy. She’s nothing like me, full of shadows and venom. Who am I to ruin her with my poison?

So I find myself opening my mouth and answering, “I have heard of the manga and anime, but I haven’t really looked into either of them. I mean, I _did_ just start the light novel. As for adaptations . . . I suppose you’re right. They can go either be good or bad.”

I can’t _believe_ I just said that. My cheeks color.

But the glow in her eyes as she responds, her hands motioning wildly, her face alit . . . it kind of makes it worth it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All the lovely banter! This story will have a lot of that, haha. It was so fun to write. Anyway, thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed it! I'll try and post chapter two soon. 
> 
> ~ J. Dominique


	3. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, a fairly short chapter. We're still in the "character-developing stage." Next chapter will have some more of that, too, and with a bit of introduction to the main plot/conflict (not that there's a ton of drama or anything in this story). Thanks to everyone who has read so far! Hope you enjoy.

“Mayuzumi-senpai, have you ever said my name before?”

“No. And no.”

“And no what?”

“I’m declining whatever you’re going to ask me next.”

“You’re so mean, Senpai. I was just going to ask you to call me by my first name. When you _do_ use my name.”

“What?”

She dips into a bow before me. “Please use my first name when you call out to me!”

It’s only our third day of knowing each other, and she’s already requesting such things.

* * *

“Saaaaaay it, Senpai. Tsukiko. That’s my name. Please. Senpai!”

“No.”

“It’s really easy. Tsu. Ki. Ko. C’mon. You can do it!”

“I’m not a child. And no.”

“You’re not even reading anymore! I haven’t seen your eyes move from that page in five minutes!”

I lay down my book, scowling at being caught.

“Mayuzumi-senpai,” she says, a serious tone to her voice. “You need to learn how to smile more. You’ll get early on-set wrinkles if you keep on glaring so much.”

“I’m not glaring.”

“Um, you totally are.”

“Am not.”

“So are.”

I’m about to deny it again, but then close my mouth. She grins. My forehead wrinkles as I realize I’ve been falling into her bait.

She’s more clever than I gave her credit for.

“Senpai, you can’t go your whole life without ever saying my name.”

“Watch me.”

“I’ll hear you say it at least once. Watch _me_.”

I stare at her briefly, and all of her bravado falters under my gaze.

“Senpai?”

I release a sigh. “It’s time for us to head back. You don’t want to be late for class. The first-year hallway is farther than mine.”

“You know where my classroom is, Senpai?’

“Idiot. I was once a first-year, too.”

“Oh. Right. But still . . . is that you actually being considerate?”

“No, it’s just me wanting to get rid of you sooner.”

“You’re so cold, Senpai,” she says, but she’s smiling.

* * *

On the fourth day, when she comes to the roof, she’s carrying her usual bento, but she also has a large, heavy-looking bag.

“Senpai!” she calls. “Look what I brought!” She hefts the bag farther up her shoulder.

“Don’t care.”

“Of course you care! I know, I know, despite what you say, you really do.”

I roll my eyes and make it through a paragraph while she lugs the bag over to me.

“Here.” She lays the bag down before me, and nudges it toward my feet. Despite myself, I am a little curious. It takes a lot of my will power not to peer into it.

She plops down next to the bag, sets her bento to the side, and begins to pull out . . . light novels.

“I went home and explored my whole collection,” she says. “Here are some I think you might like. Based on the few I’ve seen you reading. Senpai, will you put down your book? Friends don’t generally read books while the other is trying to talk to them.”

I sigh, and lay my book down. “You would know, would you?”

For a moment, she looks almost stricken at the words, but then she recovers a moment later and says, “U-um, here. Have you read this one?”

I take the novel from her and glance at the cover and title. It’s not one I recognize, which is surprising in itself as I consider myself to be well-versed in light novels. I flip to the back to read the summary. It does seem a bit . . . interesting. I open the book and read the first few lines, which actually aren’t bad at all.

“What do you think?” she asks eagerly.

“It seems okay,” I admit.

“Oh! How about this one, then?” She hands me another, and this one, I’ve heard of, but am unfamiliar with. It, too, does not seem that bad. As we go through the rest of the books through her bag, it turns out I’ve read most of them, but there are about four that I haven’t, and that seem mildly interesting.

At least, they seem like something I’d read.

And I have to admit, she doesn’t have bad taste.

I may have . . . judged her wrong.

“There’s this one light novel,” I say slowly, once we’ve finished going through all the books she brought. “You might enjoy it.”

I reach inside my bag and take out the book in question, just happening to have it in my possession at the time. It’s one of my favorites, and I generally have it on me. I’ve read it many times myself before, so it’s a little worn.

She takes the light novel, her eyes glowing. “You’re letting me borrow this?” she says. “Wow! This one looks great. I’ve never heard of it before. And it’s clear you love it. I can tell how much it means to you.”

My cheeks redden somewhat. I don’t like to be thought of someone who is sentimental, but maybe with her . . . it doesn’t matter as much.

As she turns the book over in her hands, I notice, for the first time, a light bruise on her wrist. I frown, and briefly think about asking her about it, but decide against it. It’s not my business. And if it turns out to be a problem, I can always mention something later.

Her delight is clear as she carefully tucks the book into the bag with the others. “I’ll be really careful with it, Senpai,” she says. “I’ll make sure no one else touches it. I won’t read it when I’m eating.”

“Do you really think I care?”

“Ehh . . . probably not. But still, I’ll be careful!”

“Sure. Thanks.”

“Thanks? Did you just thank me?”

“It’s not terribly surprising. I’m not an ungrateful person.”

“I guess not,” she says. “But to me . . . aren’t I super irritating to you?”

“Yes.”

“Whoa, you didn’t even miss a beat there!”

“Your annoyance to me is so deeply ingrained in my mind that I don’t even have to think about it anymore. It’s an instinct to react that way.”

“Mayuzumi-senpai . . . is there something wrong with the way your brain works?”

“What about yours?” I challenge. “When someone’s mean to you, all you do is smile back. Surely that’s not healthy. Isn’t that called masochism or something?”

“Does that make you the sadist, then?”

“Huh.”

_“Huh?!”_

“Just kidding.”

Her eyes are wide. “Senpai . . . did you just make a joke?”

“Depends on your view of it, I suppose.” I shrug my shoulders, but there’s a rather uncomfortable feeling rising inside of me. Did I? That’s . . . unusual.

“There really is something wrong with the way you think,” she says, but she laughs anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mayuzumi-kun really, what to do with you. Anyway, as always, thanks for reading, and hope you enjoyed! Until next time. 
> 
> ~ J. Dominique


	4. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New chapter for you guys! Okay, so this one's pretty long. It wasn't intended to be, but I just kept writing . . . and this is what happened. Hope you enjoy!

Somehow, it starts to become normal to have her visit the roof every day. As the next few weeks pass, we continue to exchange light novels, and she even starts bringing double the amount of bento, saying that I have to begin eating lunch. I relent when I try some of her food.

While I may have been opposed to having her beside me in the first place, now it’s an everyday occurrence and it’s almost . . . comfortable. Sometimes, I think I even . . . enjoy having her around.

A week after our first light novel exchange, I return all four of hers, and she returns mine.

“You read four to my one?” she says, and she looks rather put out.

“Fast reader, remember?”

“Yeah, but . . .”

“Read more and you’ll increase your reading speed.”

“I don’t think it works that way, Senpai.”

“You never know.”

“So what did you think of them?”

We hadn’t been talking much about light novels in the last week, actually branching off to a few other subjects (some anime and manga that aren’t associated with light novels, some of our school subjects, and she once again tried prying about my club).

“I actually really enjoyed this one,” I say, holding up the first one. She beams, and I move onto the next. “This one . . . it had a really good premise, but was actually pretty dry, I thought. The character development could’ve been better.”

“But the ending was so good!”

“Really? I thought the ending was all just shock value. Thrown in to make you try and remember it. But I just thought it was cheap.”

“I agree that maybe the characters were a bit underdeveloped, but I thought the plot and story was great. I guess I can see where you’re coming from with the ending being shock value . . . but I also think it was rather daring of the author to do that, despite what people might think of her. What about that one?” She points to the next book.

“This one? Oh, average, I guess. What was surprising was that plot twist in the end. That was done quite well, unlike the last one. Unfortunately, the rest of the book didn’t merit the good twist. It was like nothing happened up until then.”

“Yeah, I get that. And the last one?”

“Hated it.”

“What, seriously?”

“Don’t even get me started.”

“No, I want to hear!”

And so we spend the next ten minutes discussing the pros and cons of the book which she dubs a “unique and potentially odd masterpiece,” and I call, “a weird, awful, twisted thing that can’t even be called a story.”

“Senpai, you can be really opinionated about books, can’t you?”

“So can you,” I shoot back.

In fact, some of her opinions are even valid, but . . .

“So what did you think of the one I lent you?” I ask.

“Oh!” She takes the book in her hands and flips through the pages randomly. “Well, I really loved the writing style. It’s so beautiful and there are a lot of memorable quotes. And the characters — they’re so precious and heart-breaking and realistic, and I loved the protagonists and hated the antagonists! And ugh, they just gave me so many different emotions! And the plot was amazing, as well! For a light novel, it was surprisingly complex, and it kept me guessing until the very end. The setting was done really well, too. I could picture everything with ease. Of course, that was helped along with the amazing writing style. He’s a really good author. Is there a sequel? Man, I hope there’s a sequel. I would really love a sequel! Does he write any other books? I’m pretty sure I’d read anything else by him, even if it’s just a cookbook!”

I stare at her.

She stares back at me, uncomprehending.

Finally, I say, “I think your emotions about that book may be stronger than mine.”

She lets out a laugh. “Hardly. I mean, look at how much you’ve read this book, Senpai! You clearly love it to pieces! I . . . it’s probably that I’m just better at expressing my feelings toward it, right? I’m sure that if you learned how to express yourself, you’d be able to write a whole other light novel singing its praises. Right?”

“That sounds awful.”

“Don’t be such a downer.”

“But I am glad you liked it,” I say. “Honestly, I don’t know of anyone who doesn’t. To answer your questions . . . no. There’s not a sequel. And no, the author hasn’t written any other books. Actually, there’s not really much information about who he really is.”

“Are you serious? So he’s like some mystery man? Wait, is this really even his real name? Wait, wait, wait! What if this story is real and that’s why we don’t know anything about the author? What if he’s actually writing his own autobiography? What if we just don’t know anything about this parallel world? It clears out, Senpai!”

“Please. Calm your imagination.”

“You’re no fun, Senpai. You should let loose some more. Really, based on what your personality is like, I’m really surprised that you read light novels.”

I frown. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“It’s just . . . light novels are light, you know? And some of the content is kind of . . . you know? For someone like you, I would’ve expected you to read the heavy, classic stuff, and talk about stuffy stories.”

“That sounds awful, too.”

“But you know what I mean, right?”

“Sure, I guess. Maybe. No, not really.”

She sighs and flaps her hands in the air. “It’s just . . . you don’t seem like the type to read light novels. That’s all I’m trying to say, I guess.”

“You don’t seem like the type to spend her lunch hours with a guy like me.”

She suddenly stiffens, her face going blank. For several moments, she says nothing.

I frown. I didn’t think there was anything wrong with what I said, but it’s clearly had an effect on her, so . . .

She’s still staring off into the distance with no indication that she’s going to be snapping out of it anytime soon.

Should I shake her? Mention light novels again?

Or . . .

I take in a deep breath.

“Tsukiko,” I say.

She jerks to attention so fast that it’s a wonder her neck hasn’t just popped. “Yes!” she shouts. Then her eyes focus onto me. “M-Mayuzumi-senpai?” She blinks a few times, and then understanding fills her gaze. “You . . . you said my name! Didn’t you? You said it, didn’t you?”

I nod.

A smile spreads onto her face, and for some reason, unlike her usual cheerful grin that’s full of joy and light, this one . . . it’s almost heart-breaking in its sincerity.

“Mayuzumi-senpai,” she whispers. “Thank you.”

I don’t know what compels me then, but I reach out to her, and my hand brushes against her arm. She lets out a small gasp. We have never touched before. Not even when we’re exchanging the light novels or food. For some reason, we are always careful to not let our skin brush against each other.

“Tsukiko,” I say again, this time a little louder.

Her smile stretches even more, and I think I see tears in the corners of her eyes.

* * *

 “Mayuzumi-senpaiiii. Guess what I have?”

“No.”

“Ah, you won’t even try!”

“Nope.”

“You’re so cold!”

“Whatever.”

“But this is so fun!”

“Then have fun by yourself.”

“Senpai, you really are mean.”

“So I’ve been told.”

“But, Senpai, I really want to try this out. Will you please, please, please do it for me?”

“. . . I don’t believe I have any obligation to do anything for you.”

“I’m your first friend!”

“I don’t believe I ever confirmed that kind of relationship between us, either.”

“I’m your best friend!”

“Wait, how do you get away with saying that now? I just said we aren’t even friends!”

“C’mon, Senpai! I just want to do a bit of acting!”

_“Acting?”_

“You know . . . acting out a light novel? Like we’re in an anime! Like we’re voice actors! Wouldn’t that be so fun?”

“No.”

“Come on!”

* * *

 And that is how I got stuck in this situation.

“So, you’re going to be the knight, of course,” Tsukiko says, in a very serious tone, “and I’ll be the lovely princess.”

“Why did you have to choose such a cliché story?” I complain.

“It’s just . . . simple and sweet!” she says. “Those are the best for little skits like the one we’re doing!”

“I don’t want to do this.”

“Too bad, Senpai! You’ve already signed up.”

“I never recalled doing such a thing.”

“But alas, you are.” She lets out a dramatic sigh, smiles, and says, “So, here’s the premise: the lovely princess is in search of her true love whilst being protected by her loyal knight who is secretly in love with her. As they travel through the land of dragons, over the troll bridge, and through the fairy skies, she eventually realizes that her true love has been the faithful knight by her side all along.”

“Why a fairytale?”

“Aren’t fairytales beautiful?”

“If you like sparkles.”

Tsukiko sighs again, throwing her hands up into the air. “There is no hope for you, Senpai. But no matter, as the beautiful and lovely and pure princess, I shall cure whatever is inside of you! Whether it be a deadly disease or a venomous poison or simply your unlikeable personality, I will make sure that you become a nice person.”

“That’s quite a declaration.”

In reality, I don’t want to let her know how much that statement hit me.

Disease? Poison? My . . . personality?

I wonder, does she really view it that way?

Indeed, it’s one thing for me to view it that way. And I thought I didn’t mind other people looking at me like that either, but she . . . she changes everything.

Maybe the look on my face is weird, because Tsukiko says, “Senpai? I’m just joking, you know. I like you, actually. I mean, you’re a great friend, that is.”

I just continue to stare at her.

“Mayuzumi-senpai?” She attempts a smile but it fails halfway through.

I shake myself out of my stupor. “Oh. Sorry. I don’t know what came over me there . . . ah . . . where we were? The dragon slays the knight or something?”

“Not exactly, no,” she says. A frown creases her brow, though I’m not quite sure it’s because I got part of the plot wrong.

“Oh, well, continue on then.”

“Right. So, here’s your script. I took the liberty of translating the light novel into a script for us.”

“What if I’d refused?”

“You _did_ refuse, Senpai.”

“Right. I did. So why am I doing this?”

“Because you can’t refuse _me_.” She shoots me a winning grin and I roll my eyes.

“I can’t believe you’ve gone to all this work,” I say. “You are crazy, you know?”

“Sure, sure, whatever. The point is, just take the script!” She shoves the thick packet of paper at me and I take it with a grunt.

“Geez,” I say. “How long is this thing?”

“It’s double-spaced and one-sided,” she says. “That’s probably why it feels thicker. It’s so we can make notes and adjustments if we want.”

“Notes and adjustments? Why would we want to do that?”

“We could perform it!”

“No way.”

“C’mon, that’d be so much fun!”

“Perform for whom?”

There, she falters. “Um. Well, I’m sure we could find some people.”

“Yeah. No way.”

She shrugs. “Well, whatever. Let’s just do this!” She pumps a fist into the air. “I’ll be the narrator, too, okay? And you, you can be all the minor guy parts, and I’ll be all the minor girl parts. Sound good?”

“Whatever.”

“Actually, that should be, ‘Yes, Tsukiko, that sounds amazing!’”

“I see no reason why I should say that.”

“Of course not. All right, let’s get started!” She clears her throat. “‘Once, in a land far away and in a distant time than our own, there lived a lonely princess with not a friend but her loyal guardian, a knight with whom she’d grown up with. The princess had just had her coming-of-age birthday and was now eligible for marriage. As such, her parents were searching for possible suitors. But the princess disdained such an idea, and wished to marry for true love, someone she could truly treasure, hold dear to her heart, spend the rest of her live forever with, and —’”

“This introduction is way too long. Can we get to the action?”

“Is that all you care about?”

“It’s also somewhat mushy.”

“It’s a romance story! And I know you’ve read romance before, so don’t give me that!”

“That’s not the point. Hearing you read it is going to make me vomit.”

“Wow, thanks, Senpai. You’re really encouraging.” She sighs. “Okay, I’ll give an abbreviated version. ‘So the princess took it into her heart to search for her own version of true love. Together, with her loyal knight, they decided to search the country for someone with whom she could be her happiest.’” She shoots me a look. “All right, Senpai. Your turn now.”

“Where?”

“Were you even following the script?”

I glance down at the paper. “Um . . . let’s see . . . ‘someone with whom she could be her happiest . . .’ Ah, here.” I clear my throat like Tsukiko just did a few moments ago. “‘D-dearest princess . . . you look weary. You are unfit for travel. . . . Are you sure you would not like to stop? After all, I’m sure they never taught you to walk in shoes other than high heels at the castle.”

“Mayuzumi-senpai, have you never acted before? Don’t stutter, don’t pause between sentences. Use inflection. Also, _don’t add lines_! The knight would never say something so disrespectful!”

I frown. “But they’re best friends, right? Shouldn’t they be plenty comfortable with each other? Besides, stories that have dry characters are no fun.”

“ _You’re_ no fun,” she complains.

“Your turn,” I remind her.

“‘Ah, my dear knight. Do not worry about me. The trip is wearying indeed, but my heart is strong! I shall persevere to find my true love, no matter how tired my body may become!’”

“Who write this script? It’s terrible.”

“It’s a _fairy tale_. Your turn.”

“‘Dearest princess. If your body does become tired, have no fear, because I will carry you to the depths of the earth, even if both of us faint.’ Wait, how would he carry her if he fainted as well? This doesn’t make any sense!”

“Just read the script!”

“‘Dearest princess, my heart only belongs to you. If your courage ever happens to waver, just know that I am with you, not only in spirit, but in heart. Because my heart belongs to you.’ And yes, I am repeating myself because obviously that line is important. Do you see now, dearest princess? I am in love with you! Because my heart belongs to you! It’s an important line! So it’s said multiple times!”

“For the last time, Mayuzumi-senpai, don’t add lines!”

I throw the script onto the ground. “No way!” I say. “This is not happening. I am done with this story! It’s one thing if you chose a halfway decent story, but this is pure trash!”

Tsukiko draws in a sharp breath.

I avert my gaze from her, suddenly realizing how the words sounded.

She picks my script up from the ground without saying a word. Shuffling the papers until they’re neat once again, she says, “I’m sorry. I just thought . . . it might be fun. I’ll . . . I’ll . . .”

She turns.

For the first time since we’ve met, she turns to leave.

And for the first time since we’ve met, I realize, with startling clarity, that I don’t want her to leave.

“Wait. Tsukiko.”

I reach out and snag her arm. The scripts tumble out of her hands and she lets out a noise of surprise.

“I’m sorry,” I say. “I’m sorry, okay? You’re right. You’re right. About me earlier . . . about the poison . . . you’re right. I do have a disease. There is probably . . . something wrong about me. I’m sorry. I don’t know what to do about it.”

She’s still facing away from me; my hand is still around her arm.

She reaches back and grasps my hand with her other hand. “Mayuzumi-senpai,” she says, her voice softer and quieter than usual. “No . . . it’s okay. I’m the one who should be sorry. I shouldn’t have forced you to do something that you didn’t want to do. You have every right to be mad at me.”

“No, that’s not —”

Her fingers wrap around mine and I find that I’m suddenly unable to speak. She turns to face me, and there’s a very tender smile on her face. “Thanks for the apology,” she says. “It wasn’t needed, but I’m grateful all the same.”

I blink a few times. “You . . . are you okay?”

“What do you mean? I’m fine!” She tries to brighten up her smile, but it appears too forced.

“Tsukiko,” I say.

“Hm?” This time, her smile at least appears somewhat genuine. I find that when I say her name, it always seems to have a positive effect on her.

“Tell me more about yourself. Your family. What are they like?”

Her eyes widen slightly at the question. I’m not usually the one to initiate the conversation. But she smiles anyway and says, “Well, I don’t have any siblings. My dad died when I was younger, so I don’t really remember him. And my mom . . . she’s great. We’re really close.”

“That’s nice.”

“Yeah.” Her eyes light up, but they also look a bit misty, too. “She’s sick, though.”

“Sick?”

“Yeah . . . the doctors say there’s a chance she won’t make it.”

I begin to take a step back, shocked, but Tsukiko’s grip on my hand tightens. “No, please,” she begs. “Don’t leave. You’re my . . . you’re my first real friend. Okay? And I know you say we aren’t friends . . . and I’m sorry if you still find me annoying . . . but to me, you’re my friend. And my mom’s dying!”

“You just told me that,” I whisper. “You just . . .”

I can’t believe it.

She almost said it too easily. She was talking about her mother, smiling, and then she just let it slip that she might die . . . and now, she looks so fragile, so small, like a porcelain doll.

Perhaps she thought it would be easier that way. To tell me without so much drama. But once the words were out, they had a greater impact than she could have reckoned with.

“Mayuzumi-senpai,” she cries, and she tugs on my hand. For some reason, I let her draw me closer, until our bodies are only a few inches closer. “I’ve known for ages. I have, and yet I can’t seem to come to terms with it. We just moved here, you know? To Kyoto and to Rakuzan . . . and it’s all so different. But Mom’s still the same. She’s still the same, and I think that maybe she won’t ever change. Perhaps she’ll always stay the same. And that will be a miracle if it happens that way. But it probably won’t. Fate won’t be that kind to me, will it? Senpai, answer me!”

She is demanding a reply out of me. She needs some kind of answer, some kind of words that I can’t seem to think of. She needs someone to comfort her, someone to say the exact right thing.

She doesn’t need someone like me. Someone who can only speak in the language of poison, whose words turn into venom as soon as they lift from the tongue.

I open my mouth. I close it. I don’t say anything at all.

The tears begin to stream down her face.

She is crying.

She is crying.

I can’t do anything at all.

“Please,” she says. She moves even closer and I can’t find it within me to stop her, even though my body is screaming that some part of this isn’t right — or maybe that some part of it is — and lays her head on my chest, her small arms encircling around my body.

Something flutters inside my chest. For a while, I let her hold onto me. I don’t move. I don’t move my arms around her, to hold her up, too. I just let her grasp onto me, if she needs something to keep her afloat. Even if it is someone like me, I will let her use me.

But then . . .

“Senpai,” she says and she glances up at me. Her face is streaked with drying tears, and her eyes are puffy and red.

I stare down at her and I can’t put into words the powerful emotion rising inside of me.

“Yes?” I manage to say.

“I . . . if you could . . . that is, if you don’t mind . . . I would really like . . . I mean, you don’t have to if you don’t want to —”

I sigh. “Just spit it out.”

“Can you hug me, too?”

I stare at her. Hug . . . her? Envelop her in my arms? Currently, my arms are hanging loose, useless by my sides, but at her words, I find them moving, almost like of their own will, powered by the force of her voice. They wrap around her and as if she wasn’t close enough before, pull her in closer. She lets out a sharp breath, like the air is being squeezed out of her. I hug her tighter and tighter, and as tight as she can, also, she hugs me.

We stand like that for a long time.

Her chin pokes into my chest. My chin rests against her head, into her dyed teal hair. We seem to be opposites in every way, only drawn together by one common interest. Hardly enough to establish a good, solid relationship, and hardly enough to keep the relationship strong and going for a long time. But yet . . . this goes beyond all rationality. This is illogical, unreasonable, but somehow . . .

“Kiyabu Tsukiko,” I find myself saying.

Then, she says my name, “Mayuzumi Chihiro.”

As if by some unspoken agreement, we separate. Her cheeks are flushed, her eyes dilated. I’m sure I don’t look much better.

She says, “Senpai?”

“You can call me, if you need to,” I say. “I’ll give you my number.”

Her eyes widen, because she knows that for me, that means just about everything.

“Yes!” She grins broadly. “Senpai, thank you.”

 _No,_ I feel like I should be saying, _thank you_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that seemed to escalate a bit quickly. A bit dramatic for me, maybe, and maybe it's also a bit OOC for Mayuzumi, but maybe not. We really don't know much about him (man, I wanna know more!), but to me, he always seemed like someone who put on a tough front but was really pretty sensitive and nice on the inside. And he really just needs someone like Tsukiko to break down his walls and force her way in. He has a very subjective way of viewing himself, but maybe she can change that. 
> 
> Anyway, thank you for reading! It makes me happy each time I get favorites/follows/reviews. :D You guys are awesome. 
> 
> ~ J. Dominique


	5. Chapter 4

“Senpai?”

The voice is soft, almost weak-sounding.

I lay down the light novel and stand up. “Tsukiko?” I say. “Is that you?”

I mean, of course it would be her, because who else comes up to this roof?

I see a shadowy form near the door, but she doesn’t come nearer.

“Is something wrong?” I ask.

“Ahh . . . well, it’s nothing really.”

I begin to move forward, but she says, “No, please stop! Don’t come any closer. I just wanted to let you know that . . . um, I’m not coming up to eat lunch today, and so, um, you know, give my regards and all!”

“Don’t give me that,” I snap, and before she can react, I dash toward her. She lets out a squeak, but then I’m by her side. I grab her hand and drag her into the light.

I breathe out.

She ducks her face. “Is it that bad?”

There’s a cut on her eyebrow, just barely missing her eye, and also one on her lip. Her left cheek is badly bruised and swollen. On the whole, I suppose it _could_ be worse. But for Tsukiko . . .

“Who did this?” I demand.

“Ah . . .”

“Who did this?” I ask again, putting even more force into my voice.

“Senpai —”

“Tsukiko!” I nearly shout her name. I grab her shoulders and shake her. “Answer me!”

Her eyes are so large that I wonder if I’m scaring her. But then she says, “There are some people . . . here at school . . . they don’t like me very much.”

“Bullies, then?” I release her shoulders and step back, a cool calm flooding over me. “Have you gone to a teacher?”

“No,” she mutters.

“Why not?”

“I want to handle this on my own. And I want to make friends on my own. If I tell someone about them . . . there’s no chance of either of those.”

There is something in her eyes, a ghost haunting her. I remember that there are things that she still doesn’t want to tell me, and I wonder if this touches upon them. Even so, anger fills me. I don’t know who it’s toward — the bullies, her . . . myself.

“Don’t be stupid,” I snap. “This is more serious than that. People will respect you still if you stand up to the bullies. They won’t think you’re weak for going to an adult.”

She just smiles. “Thanks, Senpai, but I can do this on my own.”

I sigh, running a hand through my hair. “Have you gone to the nurse yet?”

“No.”

“You need to. Let’s go right now. I’ll take you, okay?”

“No, Senpai — I appreciate that, but I don’t want to. She’ll ask questions, and then I’ll have to tell —”

“What, are you just going to walk into class looking like this?”

“I’ll say I tripped and fell,” she says defensively. “I can be pretty clumsy sometimes.”

“Well, I can believe that,” I mutter. I glance at her, and when I see that it’s clear she’s not going to relent in the matter, I say, “Fine. You stay here. I’ll be right back.”

“Where are you going?”

“I’ll be back. Just stay here, okay? If you move, I will personally go find you and kill you myself.”

“Noted, Senpai.”

* * *

It’s a very small matter to sneak into the nurse’s office and “borrow” some of her supplies for Tsukiko. In fact, I barely even have to sneak. I can pretty much just walk wherever I want to without being noticed. Most of the time, it’s a real pain, but sometimes, it can come in handy, like now for instance.

As I grab some ointment, bandages, and whatever else I think looks useful, I think over Tsukiko’s predicament. While I don’t particularly approve of her decision to not tell someone about the bullies, I can’t say that I don’t understand it. The feeling that you need to stand on your own is often engraved in everyone. Some people have an easier time of relying on others, even to the point of clinginess; others are so independent that they never even think of others. Tsukiko . . . she seems like the type with a strange balance of wanting companionship and also wanting to be independent.

Me? I’m not quite sure what I am.

I finish stuffing the equipment into my bag, and head out and back to the roof. There are only a few minutes left till class, not enough time to fix her up, but I don’t mind missing my next class (Japanese, which I’m obviously fluent in), and for her, medical attention is more important right now than anything else anyway.

When I reach the roof, she’s obeyed me and stayed in the exact same spot. Well, she’s sat down.

“Where did you go, Senpai?” she asks.

I near her, crouch down, and empty the contents of my bag. Her eyes widen at the sight. “You . . . got these from the nurse?”

Well . . . not from the nurse. More like just from her office. I nod anyway, because it doesn’t really matter. In the end, they’re all going to be used on students.

“Here,” I say. “Your knuckles are hurt, too, aren’t they? Give me your hand.”

She frowns down at the ground, and when she doesn’t move, I grab her hand, a little more roughly than I’d intended. She cries out softly and I mutter an apology.

I open the tub of ointment and begin to spread some over the red scratches. She winces, but doesn’t make any noise of pain. I then wrap her hands. Where the skin split, it’s rough, but her palm and the rest of her hand is soft, I can’t help but notice.

“Your face now,” I say.

“I can do it myself,” she says.

“You can’t see yourself,” I say, “so I’m doing it.”

She fidgets, but closes her eyes, tilting her face toward me. My heart suddenly speeds up. I dip my finger into the ointment again, and rub it across the cut on her eyebrow. She shivers slightly. I then move to the one on her lip. As gently as possible, I press my finger against the smooth skin of her lips. They part ever so slightly at my touch, and it takes everything in my power not to snatch my fingers away — or keep them there longer than necessary.

“I can put a band-aid on your forehead,” I say. I unwrap the band-aid and press it gently onto the cut.

She releases a sigh and opens her eyes. “Thank you, Senpai,” she says. “I’m surprised, actually. That you would do something like this for me.”

I frown. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“Well, not too long ago, you were saying you weren’t obligated to do anything for me. Right?”

“Ah . . . well, I’m sorry about that.”

She laughs. “No worries. I don’t mind. But . . . I have to say that I like you better when you’re nice.”

My cheeks flame. “Wh-what?”

“I always knew you were really quite kind inside, Mayuzumi-senpai. It’s just my perseverance that uncovered this side of you, right?” She grins at me.

I continue to stammer.

“Anyway,” she continues. “Thank you again, Senpai. Really. It does mean a lot. Even coming from someone like you.”

“It doesn’t matter,” I say. “Actually. It doesn’t.”

“But it does. You don’t understand that, but it does. To me, it does.”

* * *

“I still have a request for you, Senpai.”

“And what would that be?” I ask, sighing.

“What club are you in?”

“That’s not a request! That’s just a question!”

“Well . . . the question is preceding the request.”

I scowl. “What’s the request.”

“I want to join the club you’re in.”

“No way.”

“Are you in a sports club? I mean, I guess you seem to be athletic enough to be . . . and on the outside, you seem all cool and mysterious, but in reality, you’re actually just a giant nerd, aren’t you?”

I shoot her a look and she bursts into laughter.

“I don’t think you want to join my club,” I tell her.

“And why would that be?”

“It’s basketball.”

“Aha! So it is a sport! And, ah . . . I really am no good at sports.”

“And our captain is Akashi Seijurou.”

“Huh? Who’s that?”

“He’s a first-year like you.”

“A first-year? Wait, did you say captain?”

I nod. “I don’t think anyone in their right mind would want to join a team with Akashi Seijurou as captain.”

“And why’s that?”

“He’s clearly crazy.”

“Huh? What do you mean?”

“He’s . . . odd, to say the least.” I sigh and lean back against the edge of the roof. “In truth, I’ve been in the basketball club since my first year. But I’ve always been in the third-string. Basically, the worst. It’s not that I wasn’t a good player; I just wasn’t as good as any of the others and I had no distinguishing talent or anything to set me apart.”

“So you were normal?”

I glare at her and she quiets down.

“I was almost to the point that I was going to quit this year, but Akashi came up to me and offered me a position as a regular.”

“And why would he do that?”

I glance down at my hands and stretch my fingers in and out. “Because of who I am,” I say. “Because of what my aura is. It’s weak. Weaker than normal. And because of that, Akashi wanted to exploit it. Because of him, I learned this technique called misdirection. Basically, it’s a move that can distract your attention. I’m not too good at it, but I’m decent enough that I’m now a regular. Akashi also . . . improved my fundamentals.”

“I don’t understand,” she says. “Shouldn’t you be grateful to Akashi, then? He’s made you one of the star players, right?”

“Not a star player, no,” I say, and an ember of anger burns inside of me. “Really, I’m not much more than something to aid the team. I pass a lot, sometimes make a few shots when they let me. But I don’t get any of the attention they do. I don’t get any of that sort of glory. People . . . they never remember me. And Akashi . . . what he’s asked me to do . . . it’s perhaps better than I thought, and yet not what I thought it would be, either.”

“But I still don’t get what’s wrong with Akashi.”

“Look, just don’t get involved with him, okay? He may seem nice at first, but he’s really messed up. And he’ll make fun of your light novels.”

“Whoa, really?”

“Well, he won’t say it out loud, but I saw it in his eyes.”

“That’s awful!”

I shake my head slightly, amazed by how easily her opinion can be swayed.

“But still,” she says. “Basketball, huh? Our team is really strong, right? And I suppose . .. you helped in that?”

“I did my job. Nothing more, nothing less.”

“Haha, that sounds like you, Senpai. I would like to see you play, though. When is your next game?”

“Not for a while,” I say. “We’re preparing for the Winter Cup next. It’s a championship that takes place in the winter, obviously. It’s gotten pretty big over the last few years. The preliminaries start in November, but those’ll be a breeze. Hardly worth watching. If anything, you should come to the final.”

“The final? Wait, you’re so confident that you’re betting you’ll make it to the final?”

“Of course. Your underestimate Rakuzan.”

“You?”

“No,” I say carefully. “Not me, exactly.”

“Are you saying the rest of the team is that strong?”

“Akashi Seijurou . . . is one of the Generation of Miracles. Basically, he was in this really strong middle school basketball team that wrong three championships in a row. And then the other three are all Uncrowned Kings, all one level below the Generation of Miracles. Last of all, there is me. The nobody. Really, do you think I could ever compare to them?”

“Akashi must see something in you, though. He wouldn’t have asked you to be on the team otherwise.”

“Akashi’s reasons, whatever they are, are weird. I don’t really care for them, but as long as I get to play in games and do as I what, I’m fine with it.”

“You really think that? Don’t you value your teammates at all?”

“Not really. Being in a team . . . Rakuzan doesn’t prioritize that. Sure, we’ll work _as_ a team, but we’re not a team.”

“That seems . . . kind of sad, actually.”

“Have you ever played a sport?”

“No. Why?”

“Maybe it’s just something you have to play to understand. But sometimes there are only things you can do as a group — but still as individuals.”


	6. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so quite a bit happens in this chapter! Sorry for taking so long to update! (Only like a week, but I'd planned to be updating only every few days with this story. So sorry!) Anyway, thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoy, of course!

The next month seems to pass rather quickly. Tsukiko continues to come to the rooftop and we’ll continue to have our heated discussions about the light novels. She’s started to cook even more elaborate bento as well, saying that she needs to increase her range of skills.

As the preliminaries to Winter Cup begin, the Rakuzan team easily blows past the first few games. The next few are a little tougher, yet still quite easy. Despite what I said, Tsukiko decides to show up at a few of them. Somehow, when I see her in the stands, cheering (for me?), I somehow want to play harder, and maybe, I want to score more goals to show her just what I can do.

But at the end the games, I can never find her to ask her what she thought. And Rakuzan always leaves late, as a team. Some part of me wants to call her, but I never have the guts to. She probably just left as soon as the game ended. I have no business asking her to stay later than necessary.

As the finals approach, everyone begins to wonder who will make it. Rakuzan, obviously, is a definite. The other possibilities . . . Shuutoku, Kaijou, and Seirin.

We undergo a harrowing game with Shuutoku, which contains one of the Generation of Miracles, Midorima Shintarou, who reveals a new technique with the team’s point guard. But in the end, thanks to Akashi, we win. Of course.

Meanwhile, the match between Kaijou and Seirin is decided: and Seirin comes out victorious.

It’s a little surprising, I suppose. That Seirin, a school only two years old, has come this far. But it, too, possesses a few unique players. The three-pointer Hyuuga Junpei; the Uncrowned King nicknamed the Iron Heart, Kiyoshi Teppei; and the point guard with the eagle eye, Izuki Shun. Then there is their ace, capable of entering the zone, Kagami Taiga, recently returned from America.

And the one who is likely to give me the most trouble. The Phantom Sixth Man of the Generation of Miracles: Kuroko Tetsuya.

It is an interesting match-up, to say the least. As always, Akashi and the others seem confident in the game’s victory. But for the first time, I am somewhat wary. Perhaps it is because of the Kuroko character — he is similar to me in a way.

No. That’s not it. I am similar to _him_. No matter what Akashi says, I am not the improved version of the Phantom Sixth Man; I am just a copy of the original.

But I can’t think that way. I have to convince myself that I am newer, better. Because if I don’t . . . if I don’t, loss might really be able to be seen on the horizon. And I cannot be responsible for my team’s loss. I will not be. After all the hard work I’ve done this year . . .

Yet still, as we watch the video of Seirin, I make sure to watch Kuroko Tetsuya carefully. His style . . . it’s so strange. Even though mine is supposed to be similar to his, we’re very different. And it’s clear who’s better.

No. I’m better. He couldn’t even shoot until lately. He can still barely shoot, and only does it when he knows there’s nothing to oppose him. I am much better than that. I have full confidence in my abilities, while he . . .

The game with Seirin approaches, closer and closer, and my nerves grow. Tsukiko even begins to notice, asking me what’s wrong. I don’t answer, simply staring off into the distance. Finally, I say, “If you have two versions of the same thing, one that is the original, and one that is a copy, what would you prefer?”

She blinks. “What do you mean?”

“Obviously, the original, right? Original . . . it’s more real, it’s more authentic. That’s what it means to be original, yes? A copy is simply a rip-off, something trying to be like the original, something that has no right trying to be such a cheap imitation.”

“I don’t know,” she says, and I jerk my head up to look at her.

“What?” I ask dumbly.

“Well,” she says. “It’s true the original is generally thought to be better. But sometimes, the original is not all it’s cracked up to be. Sometimes, the original is broken, sometimes it’s unfixable. And sometimes the copy . . . well, sometimes they copy the original because they see something worth repeating. Of course, the copy will never exactly be the same. But that’s sort of the beauty in it, I suppose. The copy might be inspired by the original, but it’s also different; it has its own improvements, enhancements, and modifications its made, even if it’s tried to stay as close to the original as possible. To me . . . both the original and copy are special.”

I stare at her. “You . . . you really have a weird way of thinking.”

“Weird?”

“Ah . . . interesting?”

“I’m not sure that’s any better.”

“Okay,” I say, and I suddenly lean closer. She takes in a sharp breath, surprised by my closeness. “How about this? I don’t care what kind of way you think. I’ve decided I just like it.”

Her eyes widen and a grin spreads over her face. “Mayuzumi-senpai. Is that the first compliment you’ve paid me? You should do it more often.”

“Ah . . . do I have to?”

“Totally! I love being praised.”

“I don’t want to give you too much of a big head, though.”

She laughs. “Of course not.”

* * *

The day of the game against Seirin arrives. My nerves are like a tight cord, tied and wrapped so thin that if you pull it too quickly, too sharply, they might break.

But as I make my way into the gymnasium with the rest of the Rakuzan team, I keep my anxiety under wraps. If they saw it, they’d never let it rest, even if I’m no one to them.

Warm-up is brief. I focus on making my shots, even though my gaze threatens to wander to the other side of the court where Seirin is making simple plays. I feel their own stares on us, evaluating and sizing us up. Well, on the others, at least.

“Seirin is not a weak team,” Akashi tells us in the locker room a few minutes before the game is due to start. “You are not to underestimate them in any way. Of course, I do not believe that we will lose at all. Our victory is ensured in every way. Seirin may have their own strength, but against us, the emperors of Rakuzan, they have no hope.”

And there it is again . . . weird. Akashi is weird.

Each time we go up against one of his former teammates, I wonder if he feels any remorse about crushing them, but it doesn’t seem like it. He’s practically heartless.

“Mayuzumi,” Akashi calls out to me as the others begin to get on their uniforms.

“Captain?”

“Stay in the shadows for a while. I’ll let you know when you can reveal your abilities.” He smiles, a smile that is not quite sane all the way. “You are up against Tetsuya, after all.”

A twinge of an emotion I can’t quite name runs through me. Irritation? Regret? Anger? Sorrow? I don’t know.

“Yes, Captain.”

“Good.”

A few minutes later, we’re called onto the court. I still get a bit dizzy each time we walk out of the lockers and into the dazzling light. After never participating in games before this, it’s a bit shocking.

The game starts off with a bang, with the ace, Kagami Taiga, going into the zone. That throws our calculations off a bit, but we quickly adjust, and manage to secure several points as well.

And then, Seirin’s shadow is rendered useless. I can see the shock written clearly on his face, and despite myself, I feel a surge of satisfaction. He made a mistake — the original made a mistake . . . something I will not do. I can’t do it. They sub him out, of course.

And then, finally, it is my turn.

I disappear.

I can hear the ripples of shock from the other team, and a burst of pleasure runs through me. For once, the attention seems to be on me.

But then — it falls apart.

He comes back onto the court, and his gaze burns into me, with such intensity that I almost want to truly disappear. I don’t know what to make of it, what to think of his stare that is scalding a hole right through me. And he . . . he pushes me to my limits.

I do it. Again and again. Shot after shot.

I do the best I’ve ever done.

And it’s my worst mistake.

I gasp out loud. “You — you dare overwrite me?” I spit out some other words. I tell him what Akashi has always said to me. That he’s the worthless old model. I am better. I am stronger.

But I know it’s not true anymore.

He has beaten me.

And now, I’m only a pawn for Akashi to use. Because of all the attention I am now drawing, Akashi uses me to distract the other players’ attention. I could rebel, I could reject this new treatment, but I don’t. I stand there, a blank expression on my face, and go where Akashi directs me. Under his cold, emotionless gaze, I am powerless.

And, perhaps, I still realize the fact that we’re teammates.

I still have a duty to Rakuzan, even if I want nothing more than to really become a shadow.

This game . . .

There’s something deep inside of me. I don’t know why it started. Perhaps because of who I am, how I was raised, because of the way people treated me.

This game just seems to solidify it all, the truth of the matter. The question that I ask Akashi: “Who are you?” rings inside my own head.

It began as just a bit of poison. Then it spread, throughout my veins and my bloodstream, it infiltrated my whole body, until I could no longer see any such reality, any such thing as happiness. All there was were shadows.

There are similarities between Kuroko Tetsuya and I, that much I acknowledge. To an extent, we both share the title of “shadow.” However, while he is a shadow that is cast by light, something created by something pure, I am nothing more than a collection of darkness. Perhaps it is only a shade of a difference, but it is there. If anything, he is a true shadow, while I am just . . . gray.

* * *

I exit the building alone. There was something different about Akashi tonight, and it just confirms in my mind that he truly is weird. After the game ended — Seirin somehow managing to grasp victory — and we lined up to give our thanks, I quickly made my way back to the lockers and changed. I didn’t tell anyone where I was going. Why did I need to? I’m older than any of them. And besides, they made it clear tonight how much they care about me.

As I move into the dark of the night, lit only by a few lampposts, someone moves in front of me.

I react instinctively and step back. But then, the form moves forward into some light, and I realize who it is. She says, “Mayuzumi-senpai.”

I’d nearly forgotten that she was here. I begin to approach her, but then another form walks up behind her, and carelessly throws an arm around her shoulder. She freezes.

“Hey!” I say and I move forward.

It’s a boy, around her age. He’s good-looking, if a bit nerdy, maybe. He has an air of careless confidence around him, and as he looks at Tsukiko, there’s an expression on there that I definitely don’t care for.

“Well, well, well,” he says. “Long time, no see, Tsukiko-chan.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was probably one of the harder ones for me to write. There's that conversation between him and Tsukiko about the copies and the originals (I've noticed that since watching anime my thinking and subsequently my writing has become a little more . . . how do you say it -- introspective?). And then there's the Rakuzan vs. Seirin game. I did not include a play by play version because that would've taken forever and writing basketball scenes is hard. So I summarized and tried to write Mayuzumi's feelings. It might be a bit OOC for him, I'm not sure. For example, in canon, he might be totally secure in the fact that he is better than Kuroko, whereas I've showed some insecurity. I don't know. Let me know what you guys think. I love hearing your thoughts. :D And then there's that cliffhanger . . . 
> 
> Thanks for reading! I hope you've enjoyed this chapter! Do I sound redundant? Sorry, but it's true! Reviews are appreciated. I'll pretty much anything you give me. Until next time. 
> 
> ~ J. Dominique


	7. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the next chapter for you guys. There's a lot of talk in here, as well as some explanations for things. Hope you enjoy!

Tsukiko-chan?

“Don’t call me that,” she says, and her voice suddenly sounds small. I want to rip his arm off of her.

“Don’t be like that,” the boy croons, and his lips near her hair. “What have you done with your hair? It looks awful.”

I _like_ her teal hair.

As if my thoughts were so forceful they were projected to him, the boy finally notices me. “Who are you?” he asks blankly. Then recognition flashes across his face. “Hey, aren’t you that guy who just lost? The one who made that stupid mistake? That was kind of hilarious, actually. Who would’ve thought you’d actually fall for that?”

Anger boils up inside of me.

Tsukiko darts out from underneath his arm and dashes over to my side. “Don’t say that!” she says. “Mayuzumi-senpai tried his hardest tonight! And he did really well.”

The boy’s eyes widen. “What’s this, Tsukiko-chan? Are you dating _him_ now?”

Both of our cheeks redden. “N-no,” she says. “We’re not dating. That’s not how it is. He’s my friend. He’s a good person. Unlike you, Omura-kun.”

The boy — Omura — appears amused. “Omura-kun, huh? I guess you’re not going to call me Kenta anymore?”

“We’re not boyfriend and girlfriend now. I don’t have any reason to.”

I nearly puke. Tsukiko . . . she dated a guy like this?

Omura shrugs. “Whatever. But I’ll give you a piece of advice, if you’ll listen. Don’t hang out with losers like this. You can tell just by looking at him. There’s something wrong with him. He’ll be a loser all his life. Literally.” He lets out a low laugh, and then he turns around to leave.

Tsukiko whirls around to face me, grabbing my arms. “Don’t listen to him, Senpai,” she says. “Omura . . . he’s . . . he doesn’t know what he’s talking about! He doesn’t know you like I do.”

“No,” I say, “he’s right. I do lose everything.”

“That’s not true!”

“Did you watch the game?” I ask.

She nods. “You did really well tonight.”

“Don’t try and make me feel better. It only makes me feel worse, actually.”

“I’m not trying to make you feel better. I’m being truthful.”

I give her a sideways look.

She continues, “You scored a lot of goals tonight, even without having to rely on your misdirection. Even if you did make a mistake, the team should be thankful toward you.”

“That’s not how Rakuzan thinks.”

“Well? Then their thought process stinks.”

I suddenly let out a laugh. “Ah . . . ,” I breathe out. “That was awful, honestly. I guess I’ve forgotten what it’s like to lose . . . I suppose I got too used to winning. . .”

“Losing does kind of sting, doesn’t it? But . . . sometimes it can be beneficial. And maybe, you should think about the winners as well. Think of how hard they’ve worked toward this, how much they surely wanted this. Think of how happy they are.”

“That doesn’t particularly make me feel any better.”

“Mayuzumi-senpai, you aren’t a very sympathetic person, are you?”

“S’pose not.” I sigh. “But, look, Omura _is_ right. A person like me is no good for you. I can’t help it. There’s just something inside of me . . . Tsukiko. I’m mean to you all the time. I reject you. I mess with you. Why are you still here?”

“You said you lose everything,” she says. “But I don’t believe that for one second. I’m going to prove you wrong. Just you see.”

“How?” I ask, despite myself.

“For example,” she says, and she jabs a finger toward her chest. “I’ll stay by your side. You won’t lose me.”

* * *

I walk her home that night. Well, as far as I can. I actually decide to run an errand before returning to my own home, so we decide we’ll part at the train. As we walk to the station, though, she fills me in about the jerk that is Omura Kenta.

“We met in middle school,” she says. “He was nice, popular, and smart. I was . . . average at best. Anyway, he seemed to take interest in me and I suppose I should’ve seen that that was unusual, especially with the circumstances, but I thought he actually liked me, so I thought I’d give him a chance. We began to date, and for a while, it seemed really nice. There didn’t seem to be anything super special. It just seemed like a nice relationship, you know?”

I can’t say I have, seeing as I’ve never had a girlfriend before. In truth, I don’t think a girl’s ever noticed me. Before Tsukiko, that is . . .

“Anyway, Omura was generally a mild-mannered person. Not super emotional or affectionate, but he gave me enough attention that I thought he genuinely liked me. As our last few days of middle school approached, though . . . he dumped me. Through text.”

“Through text?”

“Yes.” She nods. “There was no reason, no explanation. All he said was, ‘I’m breaking up with you.’”

I really want to pummel the guy now.

“For a while, I guess you could say I was heart-broken. I mean, it’s not like there was a lot of chemistry between us or that I really liked him in that way, but I was . . . attached. After spending so much time with someone, it’s hard not to become attached, right? And so, I was a bit depressed for a while. But then, I made up my mind to not let it get to me. Mom and I moved to Kyoto, and I decided to go to Rakuzan. It was a fresh start, a place that I could actually make friends for once, and have people that liked me for me. I thought that maybe . . . everything could be perfect for once.”

“What do you mean, ‘make friends for once’?”

She grimaces. “Perhaps, because of who I am, I’ve never really had any friends. I am average, too ordinary, much too normal. And people never flock to people like that, right? Anyway, I was also fairly shy as a kid, and I could never get out there to talk to people. By the time I managed to swallow my shyness, everyone had already formed their cliques, and I was just left . . . alone. That’s not a good thing. And so . . .”

She heaves a sighs, looking downwards. For a few moments, we walk in silence. I am filled with a mixture of wanting her to continue and wanting her to stop. I want to know about her past — and at the same time, I really don’t. I really don’t because . . .

She continues, her voice calm, like she’s talking about something normal to someone normal on a normal night. I almost wish it were so.

“High school isn’t exactly the first experience I’ve had with bullying. The middle school girls would play mean little tricks: messing with my desk, hiding my textbooks when I wasn’t looking, or blaming me for things whenever something went wrong in class. When I started dating Omura-kun, it got a bit better. He was popular, so people treated me nicely simply because I was his girlfriend, but they weren’t real. They were just people who were my ‘friends’ because they were his friends. In the end, I haven’t had a real friend my whole life. Mayuzumi-senpai . . . I guess you could say you’re my one and only friend. My true friend. I wasn’t lying when I said you’re my best friend.”

“Tsukiko . . .”

She has a defiant look on her face. “I know you must be thinking that there must be something wrong with me. I must be deficit in some area. How can someone grow up without any real friends? Why do I keep getting bullied? Well, I’m sorry! I don’t know what to do about it!”

“Tsukiko!” I say, and she quiets down for a moment. “I’m the same way.”

“What?”

“I’m the same way,” I repeat. “Well, not about the bullying — people just ignore me. But I’ve never had any friends either, actually. Like in basketball, I’ve always been overlooked. You could say that I’m a shadow. People don’t see me. Like their shadow, they never think about me. I am invisible. And so . . . of course, that’s not a good thing to make friends for. You know, I’m not saying that bullying is any better, but at least you’re noticed. And I’ve always thought that if someone is taking the time to bully you, waste their energy on you, it’s because they see something in you. They’re jealous of you, probably. You’re better, nicer, stronger, all that, and they can’t reckon with that, so they just try and put you down. It’s disgusting.”

“I’ve . . . never thought of it that way,” Tsukiko says. “I’ve always just thought they hated me.”

“Well, better to be hated than forgotten. If nobody remembers you, that means you’re not even worth it.”

“Don’t say that.”

I frown. “It’s okay. While some part of me wouldn’t mind having friends, another part thinks that I don’t need anyone to rely on. That I should just rely on myself and no one else. I suppose you understand that?”

She nods. “I suppose I do. You know, Senpai, I didn’t think we were alike at all at first, but maybe we have more in common than I thought.”

I frown. “Is that a good thing?”

“I suppose it depends on how you look at it.” She walks a few steps in front of me.

I watch her back for a few moments before I say, “You said you wanted to make a fresh start at Rakuzan. What happened there?”

She pauses for a moment, inclining her head slightly toward me. “About that . . . well, I resolved that I would do everything in my ability to make sure I made friends and that I would never be alone again. That the situation with Omura wouldn’t happen again. But then, I realized that just changing my appearance wasn’t enough. You can’t dye your hair and hope your personality changes along with it. I couldn’t . . . I couldn’t do it. I tried making friends, but they all just stared at me like I was crazy. And I couldn’t do it. Eventually, I stopped trying altogether.”

“But . . . you seem fine with me,” I say. “I don’t think you seem strange or anything.”

“Or even normal?”

“Or even normal,” I agree.

“Well, with you, maybe it’s different,” she muses. “I was running and I didn’t know where I was going. And I happened upon the roof. And I saw you. And you were reading a light novel. I immediately thought that maybe I could start a friendship between us because we actually have something in common. With the others, it seems like I have nothing in common with them, nothing to start with. But with you . . . there was immediately something to start talking about, you know? And so I made the decision that I wouldn’t stop talking to you until you talked back.”

“Well, you definitely accomplished that.”

She smiles broadly. “It definitely worked, right? We’re best friends, yeah?”

I glance at her. Best friends. “Right,” I say. “Okay.”

“No!” she says and I jump.

“What is it?” I ask, glancing around. “Is something wrong?”

“I don’t want you to just agree like that!” she says. “You have to say, ‘Yes, Tsukiko, we’re best friends!’”

“I don’t see any reason why I should say that.”

“Mayuzumi-senpai, you can still be really cold sometimes, you know.”

“Sorry.”

“Ah, you don’t have to be. I’m just kidding. But come on now, say it!”

I sigh. There is really no denying this girl.

“Yes, Tsukiko, we’re best friends,” I say.

The grin on her face . . . it really does make everything worth it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So what'd you think? Thanks for reading!
> 
> ~ J. Dominique


	8. Chapter 7

When I see Tsukiko the next day, she’s re-dyed her hair. A majority of it is bright cherry-red now. I blink several times, a bit disconcerted by the change.

“What?” she asks, smirking at my expression. “The teal’s great and all, but I need a change every once in a while.”

“It reminds me . . . of cherry pie,” I say truthfully.

She stares at me and then she begins laughing so hard that something stirs in me . . . at first, I’m unsure what it is. It’s almost like a tickle inside of my stomach . . . and then, I begin to laugh, too.

Abruptly, she stops, her eyes wide.

“What?” I ask, trying to contain my own laughter.

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard you laugh like that before,” she says.

“So? What about it?” I finally manage to swallow it, and raise my eyebrow at her.

“It’s . . . I like your laugh. That’s all.”

She grins at me, and something inside of my chest jumps.

“You should smile and laugh more,” she says. “You look younger that way. Not so aloof and standoffish. You know, you’re really quite unapproachable. That’s probably why you don’t have any other friends . . .”

“You’re saying I need to try and act like you?”

“Don’t you believe in giving it your all?”

I stretch my arms above my head, looking at the clear blue sky, not a cloud in sight. “I suppose it depends on what we’re talking about,” I say. “In basketball, I always did my best, even though I knew I was never part of the team. In name only, really . . . But to try and make friends when the end goal is only something that may or may not turn out well . . . I don’t know if I’d do that.”

“But there’s the possibility that you might find someone worth keeping forever,” she persists. “If you never try, you never know.”

“That’s your philosophy, huh? I suppose that seems a lot like you. But for me, I only believe in working for something that gives its benefits back to me. I’m not going to put work into something that will reap nothing for me.”

“That’s . . . kind of a sad way of looking at it.”

“What’s the point of doing something if there’s not a promise of productivity to it?” I challenge her. “If I’m not going to get anything out of it, I’m not going to bother.”

“But doing things that you don’t _believe_ to be productive always manage to have a positive effect anyway. For example, I used to do quite a bit of volunteer work with Omura-kun. Obviously, the volunteer work was good for the community, but it didn’t have any direct effect on me. As I continued doing it, though, I found that I really enjoyed helping the people and interacting with them and their lives. In the end, there’s always something you can take out of everything.”

“So you’re the positive type?”

“And you just seem negative.”

We stare at each other for a few moments before we burst out laughing once again.

“Ah, well. I suppose it doesn’t matter what we think about it,” she says. “As long as we can both accept each other’s opinions. But anyway, Mayuzumi-senpai, tell me more about your family. You’re an only child, right? Have you ever wanted any siblings? What are your parents like?”

“Yeah, only child. And no, I’ve never wanted any siblings. Can you imagine how annoying they’d be? I can’t even think of how much time they’d spend ignoring me, either. My parents . . . they ignore me as well, basically.” I shrug. “I don’t even know them that well, to be honest. They let me have my own apartment, and they spend most of their time traveling around the globe for their jobs, having their own life, while not caring one bit about mine.”

“Wow, Senpai, that’s pretty bitter.”

“It’s the truth.”

“I’m sure that it’s not that they don’t care about you . . . It’s just that they —”

“They could find the time for me if they wanted to. They just don’t. They prioritize their own lives in front of mine. It’s fine. You don’t have to make an excuse for them. I don’t really care.”

“That’s pretty sad.”

“Does it really matter?”

“Well, I don’t really remember my dad, but my mom’s always been wonderful. I can’t imagine not having any sort of parental influence. She and I . . . she would take me out to do things a lot on weekends. We’d have movie nights, eat pizza, and talk late into the night. I mean, it really is sad that you’ve never had any of that.”

“It sounds like a bit of a pain, actually.”

She rolls her eyes. “Only you would think that.”

“How is your mom doing, anyway?”

Her expression deflates a little. “Ah, she’s fine. I mean, there hasn’t been a ton of change. She’s gotten a bit weaker, maybe. I suppose. But it’s not progressing as quickly as they thought, so . . . we’re . . . I’m . . .”

Hopeful. Tsukiko is hopeful that maybe, just maybe, her mother will be able to beat the unbeatable disease inside of her.

“She keeps telling me that even if — even if —” She swallows, unable to say the words, but plows on. “She keeps saying that it will be okay, that I’ll be okay, but I don’t believe her. I mean, when Dad died, I was so little . . . that sounds awful, but I didn’t even know him, can barely remember him, so how can I mourn him? But with Mom . . . I don’t know how I’ll be able to handle it.”

I’m not quite sure what to say to her. I’ve never lost anyone close to me — rather, I’ve never even had anyone close to me before. So, now that words have become superfluous, I hold my hand out to her. She stares at it, blinking furiously to hold back the tears, and takes it. Her fingers, much smaller and more slender than mine, wrap around mine, and I try to ignore the strange feeling beginning in my stomach and shivering up my skin.

“Mayuzumi-senpai,” she says. “Could . . . could you . . . ah . . . I mean, you don’t have to if you don’t want to, of course. But if you wouldn’t mind . . .”

“Spit it out now.”

“Would you walk me home today?” she blurts out.

“Walk you home?” I repeat, a bit stunned.

Her hand clenches mine harder, maybe out of instinct.

“Yes,” she says. “You can stay for dinner as well. Meet my mom. And I . . . I’d just like to spend more time with you. I mean, friends spend time with each other, right? Outside of school.”

“You’ve come to my basketball games,” I say.

“That doesn’t count.” She scowls. “Will you or will you not? If you don’t want to —”

“I’ll walk you home.” The words fall out of my mouth before I can even think about them properly. But as I do think of what I’ve just said, I realize there is no way I would ever have refused her. And maybe, dinner does sound good. It’s not like I’m that great of a cook myself. And Tsukiko has proven herself to be excellent a number of times.

She smiles broadly. “Great! I guess we’ll just meet up after school? Where do you want to meet? Outside the entrance halls?”

I tilt my head. “You haven’t joined a club yet?”

“Ehh . . . no.” She fidgets with her bag. “I haven’t decided yet.”

“It’s second-term.”

“What do you suggest, Senpai?”

“I’m not good at suggesting things for people. Just choose something you like.”

She deflates a little. “Something I’m good at . . . um, cool.”

I sigh. “You like to read, so there’s always the literature club. If you’re good at languages, maybe you should try English. There’s art or drama if you’re into that stuff.”

“Ooh, I’ll think about those. Thanks, Senpai.” Her face has already brightened a bit at my words.

“I’ll meet you after at the entrances doors, okay?” I say. “I don’t have basketball anymore, but I can catch up on some studying in the library. Go join a club.”

“Ah, okay! I’ll see you then. Oh — lunch period is about over. Shall we go, then, Senpai?”

I nod, and still holding my hand, she pulls me up and drags me to the door.

* * *

Tsukiko’s waiting me by the front doors when I exit the school.

“Senpai!” She waves her hands to direct me over.

“Did you join a club?” I immediately ask her.

She grins. “I did, actually. I decided to check out the English club just to see what it was like, then they roped me into joining, but I think I actually like it there.”

I roll my eyes. “You didn’t have to join right away, you know.”

“I know that, but they were all so nice.”

Blinking a few times, I say, “That’s . . . good. You should’ve stayed and talked with them more.”

She shrugs, shifting her bag. “I was excited to see you, though.”

A strange feeling rises inside of me. I’m not quite sure how to describe it. It might be something like wonder — why would someone like her want to see me? Or it could be something like a weird sense of pleasure. That someone like her _does_ want to see me.

“Where do you live?” I ask her.

“It’s not too far,” she says, her eyes twinkling. “Senpai, do you not usually go home right after school?”

“No. Why?”

“Oh, just wondering. What do you do instead?”

“I like to wander off at random stops. Places I haven’t explored yet.”

“Shopping?”

“No, just . . . wandering.”

“Sounds interesting. Is there a reason you’ve started doing that?”

“Not really. I mean, there’s nothing at home for me. Just me. It’s quiet. At least, in the city, there’s me and the noises of everyone else’s lives.”

“Senpai, are you really actually kind of lonely?”

“What is with that tone?” I frown, looking at her. Her eyes are large, and her gaze is a bit too serious for my liking.

“It just seems like you really crave companionship inside. Even if you try to play it tough on the outside.”

“I never said I didn’t want friends.”

“Yeah, well, you’ve implied it a number of times.”

I shrug, turning my face away from her. It’s true that I may have said things before that made it sound like I was always self-independent, that I never needed anyone else in my life. And in a way, I do believe that’s true. But with her . . . she has a way of making me rethink my views on life, and getting me to say things I would not normally say. Not to anyone else.

Only her.

We board the train, and I ask her which stop she’s going to take. When she answers, I say, “That’s the one I usually take, too. Hey, we could actually live close to each other.” A thought rises inside of me that I can’t quite decipher: would I like that or not?

“Mm, yeah.”

I glance over at her. She meets my gaze for a moment, before hurriedly averting her gaze.

“What are you making for dinner tonight?” I ask her.

“You’re curious? Are you a picky eater or something?”

I wrinkle my forehead. “Well, I won’t say that I eat everything.”

“But you eat everything that I’ve brought so far,” she points out.

“You are . . . a good cook,” I admit.

“A compliment!” she cries out, and she pokes me sharply in the chest. A sharp breath escapes from me.

Her cheeks flame and she turns her head once again. “Is something wrong?” I ask her. She doesn’t answer, but fidgets with her bag strap.

We don’t speak for the rest of the train ride, but thankfully, it’s a short trip. We get off, and for several minutes, we walk in silence also. My thoughts are trying to catch up with our most recent conversations, wondering if I’ve done something to make her uncomfortable with me or angry, but I can’t seem to think of anything.

Then, I realize what path we’re taking.

I narrow my eyes at her. “Tsukiko,” I say.

Her head jerks up. “Y-yes! Senpai!”

“This is the exact same way I take to my apartment.”

“R-really?”

“You wouldn’t happen to live at the same place, would you?”

“N-now why would you think that, Senpai?” She lets out a laugh that sounds oddly strangled.

I sigh deeply. “No wonder you’ve been acting so weird. So, tell me. How long have you known?”

She winces, knowing she can’t hide the fact anymore. “Well . . . since we’ve been friends?”

“So all along, basically.”

She nods.

“What’s your room number?”

“336.”

I stop so suddenly that she bumps into me, our shoulders scraping together. “Are you kidding me?” I say, scowling at her. “You’re telling me that not only do we live in the same apartment complex but that we’re neighbors?”

“Ah, well, Senpai . . .”

“And how have I not known about this?”

“You yourself said that you wander off after school! And I always arrive at school early, so you probably wouldn’t have seen me leave either.”

“This is unbelievable.”

“Senpai, you’re really funny sometimes, you know.”

“Don’t give me that,” I grumble. “Why’d you never tell me?”

“I thought it would be a nice surprise.”

“Surprise! This is — this is a shock!”

“Hilarious, really.”

“Oh, shut it, you.”

She just grins. “Anyway, we’re here! Three hundred and thirty-six is me. And you, Senpai, are three hundred and thirty-seven! Don’t worry, just because I know where you’ve lived all this time, I’ve never stalked you.”

For some reason, this only unnerves me further.

She types in the code for her room, and swings the door open. “I’m home, Mom! And we have a guest! The guy I told you about. Remember him? My senpai? He’s here!”

She’s about as talkative at home, too.

I wander into her house behind her, taking in the sights. The layout is an exact mirror of mine, but whereas mine is mostly bare with no personalization, hers is already bursting with color and attitude, even though she and her mom have only been living there for a few months. There are flowers near the balcony to soak up the weak rays of sunlight, plush rugs on the floor, and an assortment of bright-colored frames hung on the walls and placed on tables.

“Tsukiko!” A woman comes wheeling into the room, a person I assume must be Tsukiko’s mom. She looks a lot like Tsukiko, but obviously older, and paler, more wrinkles around her eyes, and a certain weariness about her. Her eyes fall on me, and unlike Tsukiko’s brown eyes, hers are a clear blue. “Ah! You must be Mayuzumi Chihiro, correct? I’m Tsukiko’s mother, Kiyabu Morie.”

“Yes, it’s a pleasure to meet you, Kiyabu-san.”

She smiles, her eyes crinkling. “Tsukiko’s been telling me a lot about you.”

She has?

“I’m glad you were able to come,” she continues. “I’m sure Tsukiko’s excited to have you over. She’s been wanting to fix you a full meal for a while.”

When I glance over at Tsukiko, her cheeks are slightly pink. “Mom,” she says. “How are you feeling today?”

“Just great, sweetheart. How about you get started on dinner?”

“Ah, okay. Just let me know if you need anything.” She looks a bit hesitant to leave, hovering near her mom just a little longer than necessary, but eventually she heads to the kitchen. Meanwhile, Kiyabu-san turns her attention to me. I suddenly question how I should act. She just smiles at me.

“Mayuzumi-kun, you’re welcome to set your things down and have a seat. Please, make yourself at home.”

“Ah, t-thank you.” I sling my bag down to the ground, and move to the couch. My legs bounce up and down, and for a few moments, I wonder if I should go and help Tsukiko, who I can hear in the kitchen, taking out ingredients and pots from the cabinets.

“So, you’re a third-year, Mayuzumi-kun?” Tsukiko’s mother asks me.

I nod.

“Are you excited to graduate, then?” she asks, her smile widening a bit. “When I was a senior in high school, I wanted nothing more to get out and into the world.”

“I’m not really sure,” I say. “I don’t exactly have any plans for the future, so it’s not like I really have anything to look forward to.”

“Ahh, I see. Indeed, it is hard at your age to figure out what you want to do for the rest of your life. What do your parents think?”

“My parents . . .” I lick my lips. “They’re not really around much, so I don’t talk to them very often.”

“You should think about asking them. Even if you aren’t close to them, you’ll find that parents’ advice is invaluable. I know Tsukiko hasn’t even thought one bit about what she wants to do for the future . . . Indeed, right now, she’s thinking about a very different future.” Her face softens, and my fists clench.

Even though I don’t know her very well, I don’t want her to die. Honestly, even if it was someone I hated, I would never want them to die. And perhaps because she is Tsukiko’s mother, it makes the issue somehow more personal. And here she is, talking about her death in an almost objective manner. It makes me angry, to think that someday — maybe soon — this person in front of me will not be breathing anymore.

And I can’t foresee how Tsukiko will deal with it.

Tsukiko . . .

Kiyabu-san seems to be thinking along the same lines as me, because she says, “You seem to be a good friend to her, Mayuzumi-kun. You know that Tsukiko’s a good girl, and you treat her well. Tsukiko needs someone in her life who she can lean on, especially if I’m not here anymore. Sometimes, I don’t think she’ll ever accept it, but perhaps, if she has someone else to help her, she’ll be able to move on. Perhaps it is too forward of me to ask, too soon and too presumptive, but if you would, Mayuzumi-kun, please take care of Tsukiko. She’s my daughter . . . my everything . . . and I don’t ever want her to break apart.”

I lean back slightly, my breath suddenly shallow.

This huge responsibility that’s been asked of me . . . does Kiyabu-san really expect someone like me to take it?

“I don’t think . . . ,” I begin, my voice hoarse, raw, like it hasn’t been used for a long time. “I don’t know . . .”

“I know you may have doubts yourself,” she continues. “But everything Tsukiko has told me has confirmed inside me of who you are.”

“Are you sure she’s told you everything?”

“Even so . . .” She smiles at me. “Looking at you right now, I can see how much you care for her.”

I reel inside.

Care for her? Tsukiko? I . . . care for Tsukiko?

Of course . . . it’s true that I’ve accepted that we’re friends now. I mean, I’m at her house about to eat one of her home-cooked meals. But at most, I thought that I’d moved past the tolerating stage to the “I can talk to you easier now and you don’t annoy me as much” part of the relationship.

But to actually care for someone?

I’m not quite sure what that entails.

* * *

“Dinner’s ready!” Tsukiko’s cheerful voice breaks over our conversation, and Kiyabu-san and I wrap up a heavy discussion over a recent light novel (who knew that’s where Tsukiko got it from?). If you get past the deep and depressing things, Tsukiko’s mother is actually pretty easy to talk to.

“What’d you make tonight?” Kiyabu-san asks.

“I made some kusaya!” Tsukiko says as we gather around the table. “I’ll serve it up, so you guys just hang tight.”

A few minutes later, the piping hot grilled fish and sticky rice is lain before us, looking and smelling delicious, and we give our thanks, then dig in.

“It’s wonderful!” her mother says.

“It’s good,” I tell her.

She beams at the both of us. “It’s something new, honestly,” she admits. “Didn’t you tell me you liked it a lot?” she says, directing the question toward me.

I lean back in my chair, swallowing the bite, a bit surprised. “Yeah. I didn’t think you’d remember.”

She shrugs. “Well, here’s the product. There’s plenty, too, so have seconds!”

After dinner, we spend a little while longer talking around the table, but then Tsukiko’s mother says she’s getting tired, and heads off to bed.

“Do you need any help?” Tsukiko asks, immediately standing up.

“No, I’m good,” she says. “Thanks, though. How about you and Mayuzumi-kun just go and have some fun?” She turns to me. “Thanks for coming over tonight, Mayuzumi-kun. It was fun.”

“Thank you for having me, Kiyabu-san.”

She retreats down the hall, and Tsukiko scoops up the plates to take back to the kitchen. I join her, grabbing the cups.

“I don’t think you have to be that worried about her,” I say as we walk to the kitchen, balancing the silverware in our hands.

“Huh?”

“Your mom. I think . . . I think that some part of her wants to be independent as well. Even though she loves knowing that you care for her, don’t you think it would get a bit irritating if someone thought you couldn’t do every little thing by yourself? That’s how you’re acting.”

Tsukiko’s eyes widen. “Oh. I didn’t notice . . . I . . . never thought of it that way.”

She lays the dishes into the sink and runs some hot water over them. My eyes glance over her arm, and my hand darts forward to grab her wrist, pulling it forward to me.

“Senpai, what —”

“Are they still bullying you?” I demand, pulling up the shirtsleeve that had gotten exposed when she’d rinsed the dishes. A myriad of light bruises cover her forearm.

She bites her lip. “They just like to push me around a bit. It’s nothing big.”

“Have you told your mom?”

“She doesn’t need to know. She already has enough on her plate.”

“She’d want to know.”

“I’m _fine_.” She jerks her hand away from me, and I take a step back, a bit shocked. A glint of anger shines in her eyes. “I don’t need you to baby me. I’m _fine_.”

My eyes narrow at her. “Those bruises say otherwise.”

She throws her hands into the air. “Agh! You really don’t know when to keep your mouth shut, do you? You just say the first thing that comes to your mind, and it’s often the worst thing to say.”

I take another step back, and my legs hits a cabinet. I’ve never seen her angry like this. The stress over her mother must be really getting to her. I decide, for the moment, to keep my mouth shut. Since opening it in the first place was what spurned this outburst. . . .

She continues to fume silently, her arms crossed over her chest, occasionally sending me glares. I wait patiently for her to calm down until . . . she takes in a deep breath. Then another. A third, then her face crumples.

“I . . . I’m sorry,” she says. “You know I didn’t mean that.”

“Sure.”

“I’m sorry,” she says again. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry! Ugh, no, am I? Yes, I am! But I am angry, too. Because the world . . . it’s unfair. I’m so angry. Why . . . I don’t understand.” I see the tears in the corners of her eyes, threatening to spill over at any moment.

“Tsukiko,” I say.

“Yes?” She glances up, then back down. She rubs at her red eyes. “I can’t . . . I’m sorry, Senpai. I can’t look at you right now.”

I sigh — not one of frustration, but rather resignation. “That’s fine,” I say, and then I move forward and wrap my arm around her, bringing her close to me. She buries her head into my chest and begins to sob in earnest, her tears wetting my shirt. “That’s fine,” I say again. “You don’t have to look at me.”

“But you’re here,” she whispers.

“That’s right. I am here.”

“That’s all I need to know.” Her voice is growing quieter.

I hum in response, and my hand moves to stroke her hair in an even rhythm, a pattern that seems to beat in time to my heart. Her breathing slowly steadies, her crying slowing, until the both of us silently just sit there. Alone, yet together.


	9. Chapter 8

The next few days pass fairly normal. She comes to the roof as usual and shares her bento, and we’ll talk about the latest released light novel. Sometimes, I’ll walk her home from school. Sometimes, she’ll join me in wandering around the city.

Then, she comes to the roof bleeding.

“When do they do this?” I ask, appalled as I glance over at her injuries. None of them are major, but they just look . . . bad.

“They try not to do it on school grounds,” she says. “Or when teachers are around, obviously. To and from school. During lunchtime, like now.”

“That’s it,” I declare.

“Huh?”

“I’m going to walk you to school now. And from the moment you leave your club, I’ll walk you back home, too.”

“Senpai, I don’t think that’s really necessary.”

“They can’t keep doing this to you! It’s this or tell someone.”

Her brow wrinkles. Then she says, “What about your reputation?”

“My what?”

“What people think about you.”

“I know what a reputation is!”

“What I mean is, Senpai, if you walk me all around school, people are going to think we’re dating. That’ll totally ruin the cool bad boy personality you have going for you.”

“My — what?”

“Forget I said that. Nobody even really knows that you’re a giant nerd on the inside.”

“Will you stop changing the subject! This is nonnegotiable,” I say. “Not an option. Well, I mean, unless you’re choosing to tell someone.”

She sighs. “It’s not like I’m going to object to you walking me to school.”

Funny, the way she says it now makes my cheeks heat up.

* * *

And so, we make a routine of getting up around the same time, meeting outside of our apartment rooms, then heading to school together. After her club ends, I’ll escort her from the school, and sometimes we’ll explore the city, searching for new or old bookstores and the light novels they might contain, or we’ll go over to her house and have dinner.

It becomes comfortable. Too comfortable, maybe.

That’s probably why no one expects it.

* * *

There’s a knock on my door in the middle of the night.

For several moments, I heartily believe it’s a part of my dream and simply ignore it.

Then, I realize, it’s _real_. I jolt upright so quickly, that even if it wasn’t so dark already, I’m sure I’d be seeing black.

I quickly throw on a loose t-shirt and move to the doorway, where the person won’t stop knocking. At this point, I’m pretty sure there’s only one person who it could be, but I have no idea what she could want at this time of night.

I peek through the eyehole to make sure I’m not going to open to some stranger, and when I see a flash of red, I unlock the door, and —

_“Mayuzumi-senpai!”_

She throws herself at me, wrapping her small arms around my torso and — She’s crying.

Oh, goodness, _she’s crying_.

“W-what’s wrong?” I ask, grabbing her arms and pulling her slightly away from me. “Tsukiko, what happened?”

“M-M-M-Mom!” She can barely speak through the tears streaming down her face. Her eyes are so big, so dilated that the pupils look like they might burst. Her fingers grip my arms so hard I’m afraid I might have bruises later. “I can’t wake her up. She won’t wake up! Senpai, _help me_! I don’t know what to do!” She’s wailing now, clearly losing it.

“Have you called the ambulance?” I ask, trying to keep my own calm.

She nods, still sobbing. “T-they’re coming. But it’s going to take so long! She’s not waking up! She’s not waking up! Please, tell me what I should do!”

I grasp her arm, and say, “Take me to her.”

She nods, her breath frantic and heavy, and nearly drags me through my door and into the apartment next door. She doesn’t even bother to turn the light on in her apartment, but stumbles through the dark, leading me to her mother’s room.

“Kiyabu-san?” I say, my voice tentative. I flip the switch on in the room, and pale shadows appear across the walls.

Tsukiko’s mother lies in the middle of the bed, the covers slightly rumpled. She looks ghostly pale, and her eyes are closed. If it weren’t for the dull tone of her skin, the sallowness of her cheeks, it might appear as if she were sleeping.

I can tell, even before my eyes dart to her chest to see if it’s moving up or down.

She’s dead.


	10. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So just as a heads-up, there will be twelve chapters in total plus an epilogue. So four chapters left!

Tsukiko disappears after that. Rather, she sends me one text message, saying she’s left for Tokyo, where the rest of her family is, for the funeral, and she’ll be there for the rest of term and winter break.

That’s all. Nothing more. Not even a good-bye.

If I were in her position, though, I can’t say I would’ve done any better.

Her mother died.

Sometimes, as I make my way to school without her by my side, without her voice echoing through my ears, I wonder how she is doing. Sometimes, when I go up to the roof and realize that my stomach is grumbling, unused to not eating during lunchtime now, I wonder if she’ll even return. Sometimes, when I pick up a light novel, think of how it all started, and put the book down, I wonder if she’s thinking of me, too.

But more often than not, I only think of her. Her smile. Her laugh. The way she teases me. Maybe even flirts with me. (I don’t know. Is she flirting? I’ve never exactly been able to tell what one defines as “flirting.”) I think about her hair, teal or red. I think about the stories she likes, the ones that make her cry, and the ones that make her eyes light up with joy. I think of the delicious meals she makes, and how she never once complains about sharing them with me. I think about her relationship with her mother, how she held it more precious to her than anything else.

Second-term ends in a quiet way. Without her, everything seems to be quiet. Like the whole world has been suspended for a moment, like time itself is saying to wait, hold on, until her return. It doesn’t help that it’s winter, that sometimes it’ll snow, and then the world is whitewashed and everything appears dull and lifeless.

Kind of like a world without her.

During winter break, even though the weather turns out to be a bitter wintery cold, I find myself wandering around even more than usual. I visit all the places I went to with her. But now, they only seem cold and empty. I find a few new places I think she’d like. Christmas decorations are going up, lighting up the streets and shops, shining merrily, speaking of a celebration, but they only serve to annoy me with their cheeriness.

It seems like I might be useless without her around.

* * *

Two days before third term is due to start, I receive a text from her.

_Mayuzumi-senpai, what is your favorite color?_

I don’t debate her question. I don’t send her back an answer, asking where she’s been or why she hasn’t contacted me earlier. Instead, I simply reply back with:

_Purple._

The next day, among the gray late afternoon skies, there’s a knock on my door.

As I approach the door, thinking of the previous day’s text and the only person who’d be interested in seeing me, my heart begins to pound. The last few weeks have been . . . well, to put it mildly, torture.

I open the door.

Kiyabu Tsukiko stands before me. A scarf around her neck, striped knitted gloves on her hands.

She has a single dark purple stripe in her hair.

“Hey,” she says.

I stare at her.

“What do you think?” She runs a finger through her hair. “I took your advice. My aunt offered to pay for it, actually. Good thing, probably. I was running out of money for hair products. Do you even know how expensive these things are?”

I’m still staring at her, and my mouth falls open slightly.

“Senpai?” Her eyes are large, her cheeks are pink from the cold.

I reach forward, half in a daze, and grab her hand, pulling her forward into the house. “You’ll catch a cold if you stay out there,” I say gruffly.

“That’s the first thing you want to say to me?” She laughs softly, but she wraps her gloved hands around mine, and doesn’t protest as I close the door behind her, and guide her to the couch.

“I can make some cocoa,” I say. “I’m at least halfway decent at that.”

“That sounds . . . nice and warm.” She sighs happily and disposes of her scarf and gloves, laying them on the table before the couch.

I move to the kitchen and begin heating up some water before pouring the chocolate in. With two mugs ready, I bring them over to her, and set them on the table before her. She takes the cup into her hand, warming her fingers, before taking a sip.

“This is . . . really chocolaty,” she says. “I like it.”

“What’s wrong with a bit more chocolate than it calls for?” I ask.

“Nothing. Nothing at all.” She glances around my house and says, “I don’t think I’ve ever been in here before. I can tell it’s your place.”

I glance around, too, at the blank walls, the dull furniture, and say, “You mean, a shadow could live in here and no one would know any better.”

She sets the mug down with a thud and says, “Don’t say that again. I hate it when you refer to yourself in that way. You’re not a shadow. You’re not . . . someone to be ignored. You’re a perfectly capable person who’s worthy of anyone’s respect.”

My breath catches. Her eyes meet mine. I say, “Thank you.”

She casts her gaze downward. “I . . . I’m sorry for leaving so suddenly. Without saying good-bye or telling you anything. And then not talking to you at all during . . . It was just . . .”

“It’s fine,” I say. “It doesn’t matter. I understand. Your mom . . .”

She immediately stiffens, and I cringe.

“Tsukiko,” I say. “I’m sorry about your mother . . . I know it was sudden and unexpected, even if you . . .”

“It was sudden and unexpected, even if we were expecting it?” she says, her voice bitter. “Yeah, I know. I know better than anyone.”

I hate seeing her this way. Full of anguish and pain, so low to the ground that she doesn’t know how to even begin to look up.

I remember my conversation with her mother. I take in a deep breath and steady myself.

“Tsukiko,” I say, and her eyes meet mine briefly. “It may seem cliché, but it’s true. Your mom cared for you, and she loved you so much. But she doesn’t want you to be like this. She needs you to seize the chances that she can no longer take. She wants you to live life for her — and with her, because she’s with you, too. Right? That presence you feel, like she’s always here, like you’ll never be able to forget her. Right now, that might seem overwhelming, like too much, but it’s a good thing. It’s a sign that you really loved her in return, and that you’ll be able to carry her with you wherever you go. Tsukiko, please. Keep your mother with you, but don’t dwell on her death. Live your own life, and remember hers.”

Tsukiko’s eyes are downcast, but slowly, they left to meet mine. “Mayuzumi-senpai . . .” Her eyes begin to water. “I . . . I . . . I’m sorry. I know I’m being stupid. T-thank you . . .” She gasps in several breaths, and her hand flops in front of her. I reach forward and take it, stilling its motion. She stares at our two hands, the fingers intertwined together.

“It’s what friends do, right?” I say.

She blinks several times, fast, to clear away the tears. “Right, right. Thank you, Senpai. More than anything, I’m glad I’m met you.”

“And I . . .” I swallow but force myself to continue. “I’m glad you’re back. I missed you.”

Her eyes widen slightly at the words, but then the smallest of smiles graces her lips and . . . like always, it makes my own words worth it.

* * *

“How was Tokyo?” I ask.

“Hmm? It was fine.”

The two of us sit on the couch, a little bit near, but also a little distance between us. Her hands lie on her lap, and she stares down at them, like she doesn’t know what to do with them.

“How was your family?”

“Fine. They . . . didn’t talk to me much. Other than the apologies and comforting, of course. Most of them . . . I don’t think they really knew Mom that well.”

“I hate it when people try to pretend like they understand, when in reality, they’re just keeping up appearances. Or they just like to think they understand.”

Tsukiko frowns. “I don’t think it was like that. I mean, they all were truly sorry. It’s just . . . none of them were as close to Mom as I was, so I suppose it’s hard for me to think that they can relate.”

She shifts, stretching out her legs and arms before her. I say, “Do you . . . not get along with the rest of your family well? Is that why you and your mom moved?”

“Our family can be a bit stressing,” she admits. “But it’s not like they’re a bad family. Mom just wanted to get away for the . . . last few months.” She struggles with the last few words.

“What did you think of the move?”

“I didn’t really care either way. I’d support Mom any way I could.”

“That sounds like you.”

She sends me a sideways glance. “Ah . . . now that Mom’s . . . gone, though . . .” She swallows. “They want me to move back to Tokyo. They’ve agreed to continue paying the rent for 336 and let me live there by myself until term ends, but once this year is over . . . I’m going to be moving back.”

I stare at her, and it takes me a moment to realize that my hands are clenched by my sides. My body is naturally angled toward her, as if I’m having to lean closer to her because I can’t understand what she’s saying.

“You’re . . . leaving?”

She nods.

“In . . .” My mind quickly makes the calculations. “In three months?”

She nods again, and her lips are pressed together in a thin white line.

“But . . .” I don’t finish.

It’s not like I can tell her to stay. I have no hold or sway over her after all. When she leaves, I’ll be heading to college. It seems like we’ll both be going our separate ways . . .

I unclench my fist and force the words out, “I . . . I see.”

“I like Rakuzan,” she says. “I’d rather not leave, but . . . it’s illogical for me to stay here, in an apartment by myself . . . when my aunt has a spare room and they can enroll me in the same school my cousins go to. I mean, it’s just unreasonable, right?”

“Right,” I echo.

She gives me a desperate look, like she’s almost hoping I’ll argue, but I suddenly feel drained. I know I should say something; maybe I even want to say something, but I can’t seem to find the energy to search for the right words to speak in this situation. So I lean back into the couch’s cushions and close my eyes.

“Mayuzumi-senpai?” Her voice seems distant, so far away.

I open my eyes, just slightly to see her face hovering above mine. I breathe out, and stare at her, her brown eyes, and the purple strand of hair escaping from behind her ear.

“What time is it?” I ask, trying to distract myself.

She blinks, then glances at the clock on her phone. “It’s almost six. Are you getting hungry?”

“No. No, that’s not it. It’s just . . . do you have anything going on for the rest of the night?”

“No, not really.” She licks her lips. “Actually, I was wanting to ask you . . . about that . . .” She glances at the wall, to the direction of her apartment. “I don’t really . . . feel like going over there right now.”

She glances at me imploringly, and I stare back at her, waiting for her to continue. She doesn’t, just shifts uncomfortably.

It takes me a few moments to realize what she’s asking.

“You want to stay here?”

She nods, a quick and sharp movement. “Of course, if you don’t want me, I can go over there. But it’s kind of lonely now and I can’t even walk in there without —” She shudders and doesn’t finish. “But if you —”

“No, it’s fine,” I say, cutting through her blabbering.

Her eyes go large. “Really?”

“Of course.”

“R-really?” She shifts on the couch again. “If it’s too much of a bother, I can —”

“Tsukiko, stop. It’s fine. I already said it’s fine. This apartment’s built for more than one person anyway. There’s a spare room. And an extra bed in it for when my parents visit. You can use that. You’re welcome to stay as long as you want.”

“Mayuzumi-senpai, t-thank you!”

I wave a hand at her. “Don’t worry about it. Any friend would do it.”

She shakes her head. “I don’t think so.”

“You don’t . . . what?”

“I don’t think just any friend would do what you’ve done for me,” she says, tilting her head thoughtfully. “I don’t think you’re just any friend. That’s what I’m trying to say.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, Mayuzumi's really grown attached, hasn't he? This chapter may seem somewhat forward in a lot of ways, especially with Mayuzumi, but because of the situation and his and Tsukiko's developing relationship, I figured out I could take some liberties. 
> 
> I hope you all enjoyed! Thanks for reading. I would love to hear your thoughts. Until next time. 
> 
> ~ J. Dominique


	11. Chapter 10

The bullies are becoming more daring. Before, they would mostly only target Tsukiko outside of school grounds or during lunch time, but now they’ll openly mock her when the teachers aren’t looking and even get physical when they can, betting that the other students will turn a blind eye.

Maybe it’s because she looks weaker now, dark spots under her eyes, her skin pale, her whole frame looking small and frail. She seems more susceptible, and that just makes everything about the bullying easier.

They don’t even know the situation. If they did — if they did . . .

“It’s okay, Mayuzumi-senpai,” Tsukiko says, after another day of enduring insults. “They don’t really get to me anymore.”

She says that, but words designed to hurt will hurt, no matter who they’re thrown at or how often. It’s not something that’s dulled after repetition or that can be reflected away by your attitude. It’s painful. It just is.

I say, “I can come get you for lunch. And after school, I’ll pick you up after your club.”

“Senpai, there’s really no need for that. . . .”

“Again: it’s not an option.”

The rumors start to spread then.

_That third-year and first-year . . . what are their names? Isn’t that the guy who was on the basketball team? Somehow he became a regular and he wasn’t even that good . . . I don’t know that girl. Are they dating? They always seem to be together now. I think I saw them go up to the roof together. Do you think they’re together now? That’s so weird._

Normally, I don’t pay attention to rumors at all, and usually I don’t even hear them because I try not to involve myself in other people’s matters and never hang around between classes anyways, but these rumors seem to be so strong that even I’m aware of them. It doesn’t help that they’re about me and everyone is suddenly staring at me.

It’s strange, the attention.

Perhaps the news is so big because the two of us seem to be the most unlikely people to be together — or maybe because the school is bored, with nothing else to discuss. Or . . . perhaps Tsukiko and I are both more interesting than we believe.

Strangely, after a few days, the rumors disappear like they’d never been there in the first place.

At first, I’m confused, unable to tell if they’ve moved onto some new, more exciting topic or what, but then I catch sight of Akashi Seijurou in the halls. And I realize what happened. He turns slightly to me and looks me in the eye for just long enough that I’m aware of what he’s just done for me.

I can’t say I respect Akashi. He has done too many things in the past that I don’t approve of and there’s the fact that he’s just weird. After the final at Winter Cup, though, he’s seemed to have changed . . . perhaps for the better. I acknowledge the power he possesses and the way he chooses to handle it now. The act of stopping the rumors about Tsukiko and me is a nod to me; gratitude for being on the team, and a final thanks for playing my part.

I nod to him, and he nods back, a surreptitious and almost self-serving smile on his face.

And then I turn my back on Akashi Seijurou, and walk on to where Tsukiko waits.

* * *

“Mayuzumi-senpai, I think I’m going to try and sleep in my own house tonight.”

“Huh? Really? Are you sure you’re going to be okay?”

She grips her school bag as we walk home and nods, more to herself than me. “I need to try,” she says. “I can’t keep leaning on you forever.”

“A-all right, then.”

She gives me a small smile. “It’ll be fine.”

“Well, you know that if you have any problems . . . I’m right next door.”

“Yes. I know.”

For some reason, her voice sounds even calmer than usual as she says the words.

* * *

For the last few nights since she’s been staying over, Tsukiko’s been fixing dinner for us, and then we’ll spend the night working on homework (lots of times, I’ll help her, while she might attempt some of my schoolwork — she’s rather good at English, probably thanks to her club), or we’ll just lounge around playing games or watching some of the few movies I have.

“Senpai, you really need to increase your DVD supply,” she told me one night. “It’s pretty awful. You have, like, five. And none of them are very good.”

I frowned at the small stack of CDs. “They’re my parents’,” I said. “And besides, I spend all of my money on light novels.”

“Touche.”

Now that she’s gone, though, it almost seems like she’s in Tokyo again. Even though she’s just in the apartment next door. I decide to use the time to work on my college applications.

Seeing as I graduate in less than three months, I really probably should’ve considered this sooner. Of course, I do have a few colleges that I’ve thought of, and my homeroom teacher has recommended a few also. But as I boot up my computer, fully intending to apply for a few, I find myself hesitating to type in the address for the first college.

I have a list printed off of all the potential colleges with their corresponding information. As I glance through them, I realize they’re mostly all located in Kyoto with one in Osaka.

I chew the inside of my cheek, then pull out the book that my homeroom teacher had lent me with a comprehensive list of all the colleges in Japan. I find the section for Tokyo and locate a name of one with the basic criteria I’m looking for. When I type it in to the internet search, it comes up with the main college’s page for me to browse through.

As I go through several of the Tokyo colleges, narrowing them down, I end up with three potential ones that actually look fairly promising. The price range is in what I want, even though I’ve missed the early application deadlines discount. All are fairly general colleges, since I haven’t decided exactly what I want to do yet, but they all have advanced enough programs for when I choose. The entrance exams look moderately hard, but not so difficult that I’ll have to give up everything else in my life in order to pass them.

I glance at the clock. It’s nearly midnight; I’ve spent the whole night looking at the different colleges. Shrugging, I think, what’s a few more hours? Sleep has never mattered much to me.

Tsukiko’s surely asleep right now. I suppose she’s okay since she hasn’t come back over.

I shake my head, trying not to think of her, and click on the application form for the first college. Then, before I can think about it any further, I begin to fill it out.

* * *

She’s long since had the code to my house, so I don’t really expect knocking anymore. But still, when she bursts into the room at three o’clock in the morning, I jump straight out of my chair, nearly sending my mouse flying.

Her eyes are wide and it looks like she might have a heart attack at any moment. Like she’s seen . . . oh.

“Tsukiko,” I say. “Are you okay?”

“I — I thought I was fine,” she says. “But then, but then — I was dreaming — about her, I think — and I woke up, and I thought it was morning, that she’d be in the kitchen, making breakfast. And then I realized where I was, that even if she were alive, she wouldn’t even be able to make breakfast, and that . . . that she’s not here anymore! She’s not alive!”

She gasps, harsh intakes of breath, and I close the distance between us to place my hands on her shoulders. “Calm down,” I say. “It’s okay.”

“I . . .”

“You can stay here, remember?”

“Right, right.” She sounds distracted.

“Come on, let’s get you back to bed.”

“I don’t want to.”

“What?”

“I don’t want to go back to sleep. What were you doing?” She glances over at my computer, but I twist her around, and move back to the screen to ex out the browser, which I was conveniently done with anyway.

“Secret?” she asks, sounding almost normal, if it weren’t for her quick breathing and the trembling in her hands.

“Something like that.” I turn back to her and I say, “You can’t just stay awake all night.”

“I can.”

“I’ll make some tea. Something warm. That’ll make you tired.”

“Stop trying to put me to sleep.”

“You’re just a kid. Kids shouldn’t stay awake all night.”

“I’m only a year younger than you are!”

“It’ll be two when I turn nineteen in March,” I remind her.

She scowls. “Still, a year or two . . . that’s no big deal. You have no right to boss me around.”

“You’re at my house. My rules.”

“Even if you do get me in bed, you can’t _make_ me sleep.”

I release a sigh and throw my arms up into the air. Her eyes light up, thinking she’s won. But then I move toward her, and faster than she can react, I scoop her up into my arms and carry her toward the spare room, the one she’s been using lately.

“H-hey!” She lets out a shriek, and pounds a hand against my back. She throws her arms around my neck when she feels herself beginning to slip, letting out another shriek. I chuckle, and just tighten my grip around her body, while trying to ignore the pounding of my heart.

“I’ll stay with you until you fall asleep,” I tell her, and I dump her onto the bed.

“S-Senpai!” She scrambles up onto her hands and knees and stares at me, pleading. “I don’t want to sleep! I — I can’t sleep!”

I give her an unforgiving look. “Depriving yourself of sleep will only make it worse.”

“I don’t want to dream!” She appears on the verge of crying. She grips the sheets of the bed, frustrated, and shakes her head at me. _“Please.”_

I let out a sigh, puffing the air through my cheeks. “You’re scared of the dreams?”

“ _Yes._ So, please, just let me —”

I climb onto the bed beside her and wrap an arm around her. She stiffens, immediately going still. I bring her closer to me, and then I lay us both back down onto the bed, the pillow cushioning our heads. “If you’re scared of the dreams,” I say, my voice barely above a whisper, “then you shouldn’t be. I’m here, remember?”

“That’s right,” she says, her voice equally soft. “You are . . . here.”

She wraps her hand around my free one, and glances at me, her eyes suddenly appearing much more peaceful than they had just moments ago. She lowers her eyelids, and I do the same. Almost at the same time, like they’re following the same rhythm, our breathing steadies and slows, and . . .

* * *

“My class is going on a day trip today,” Tsukiko says a few days later. “So don’t wait for me after school today, okay? I mean, it would be useless.”

“’Kay. What time will you be back, then?”

“I can’t really remember. I’ll text you the schedule when we get there, okay?”

“I’ll meet you up at the station,” I offer. “It’ll probably be dark anyway, when you get back.”

“Are you really overprotective or something?” She’s trying to sound annoyed, but there’s a smile creeping up her lips.

“I’ll be out and about anyway,” I say, shrugging. “There’s a new restaurant that just opened. I suppose I’ll try it out since you won’t be making dinner tonight. Maybe I’ll visit the bookstore. See if they’ve gotten anything new since . . . yesterday.”

She rolls her eyes. “Oh, well, have fun, then.”

“You, too. Stay within the group. Don’t let them catch you off-guard. Are any of your club people going to be there? You like them, don’t you?”

“Senpai, really, stop being such a worrywart. Really, who knew you’d be like this when I first met you? You could’ve cared less about me then.”

I frown, thinking it over. Then I say, “Whatever. Just don’t get into any trouble today. I won’t be very happy if you come home and I have to patch you up again.”

“Yeah. Your medical attention could use some brushing up with.”

“What are you implying?”

She gives me an impish grin. “Just kidding. You’re great.”

I shove her forward gently. “Get on to class now. Or you’ll be late.”

“Stop treating me like a kid!”

“Two years younger than me in March.”

“But right now, still only one!”

“Doesn’t make much of a difference. For most of the year, you’re two years younger.”

“ _What_ a big change that makes!” She scowls at me, but then her lips turn up at the corners anyway, and her hand lifts up in a wave as she turns around to the first-year hall and I head toward the third-year one.

I go up to the roof like usual that day, but it’s quieter than normal. The air is now bitter and cold, and I have to pull my coat closer around me, adjust the scarf around my neck so that it lies over my mouth, protecting my face from the gusty wind.

It almost feels like the old days, when there was nothing up here but me, the sky, and the good ol’ books. As I pull out the most recent light novel, flipping to chapter three, I think about Tsukiko’s opinion about chapter one (she just started it last night). She didn’t particularly care for the beginning, but since then, it’s gotten better. I wonder what she’ll think of it now.

Pushing my thoughts away from her, I delve myself into the story until it’s time for me to return to class.

After school is over, I head to the train station, but instead of getting off at the stop that leads to my apartment, I let the train continue to run over the tracks, leading me through the city at a leisurely pace (at least, that’s what it feels like; in reality, it’s moving very quickly). I close my eyes, breathing in the scent of coffee from the person’s mug next to me; listening to the muttering conversations of the crowd all around, some in a hurry, some chattering about their day, some angry about something at work. Overhead, the speakers crackle and announce the next stop. I open my eyes and decide that this stop is as good as any.

I still have some time before dinner, so as is my habit, I allow myself to wander around the city for a while before I make my way to the restaurant that I’d told Tsukiko about. Their specialty, apparently, are meatballs, with all different types of sauces and noodles to go with them. Since it’s a new place, the line is long, but it’s not like I have anything else going on.

It’s as I’m waiting for a table that I receive the text from Tsukiko saying when her train arrives from her trip. If everything goes on schedule, she should be back by around nine-thirty. I text her back, telling her I’ll be there, and at that moment, my name is called, telling me that they have a table for me. I pocket my phone and go to try these supposedly really good meatballs.

* * *

Indeed, they weren’t too bad.

For a restaurant that emphasizes homemade meals, it was an overall nice experience. But nothing really compares to the real thing. After having Tsukiko fix me meals and sharing many dinners with her and her mother — something that me and my family never really did — I can say that with full confidence.

I stop by a few bookstores after dinner, and then at nine, I make my way to the station.

There aren’t that many people at this time of night. I manage to find an open bench and sit down to wait for her train to come in.

“Hey, aren’t you —”

I twist my head at the voice.

Omura Kenta stands before me, a backpack on his shoulders, luggage beside his legs. His eyes are wide and slightly mocking.

“Omura,” I say. I don’t bother with an honorific. He doesn’t seem to notice.

“That’s right,” he says. “I can’t remember your name, though . . . what was it again?”

I don’t reply.

“Don’t want to share your name? Or are you just so dull that you’ve forgotten it yourself?”

I still can’t believe that someone like Tsukiko dated someone like this.

I say, “Going somewhere?”

“Hmm. I have friends here, actually. I’m going back to Tokyo now. What about you? Are you waiting for someone?” He eyes my lack of luggage.

I say, “Yeah. Sure.”

“Is it Tsukiko-chan?” I must’ve shifted or my face must’ve exposed me, because a grin appears on his face. “Aha. I see. What’s she doing? Is she coming from Tokyo? She has family there, right?”

Once again, I say nothing.

He lets out a sigh and lets his backpack slide to the ground. “You and Tsukiko-chan, huh? Are you dating _now_ , then?”

I glare at him.

“Whoa, whoa, no need to be so touchy. I’m just asking a question. I mean, she’s cute, isn’t she? Friendly. Nice.”

“If she’s so great,” I say, “why did you dump her?”

“You’re not blunt at all, are you?” He runs a hand through his hair. “I mean, Tsukiko-chan _is_ great, but I just wasn’t feeling it. If you don’t feel it for someone, why should you uselessly continue the relationship? That’s stupid.”

“That was still no reason to cut off the relationship the way you did.”

“You mean through texting her? I don’t see how there’s anything wrong with it. Whether I did it through the screen or face-to-face, she would’ve broken down anyway. Tsukiko-chan’s that kind of person. Fragile, you know? I didn’t really want to see her cry, though, so I thought I’d make it easier on myself.”

I stand up then. He eyes me carefully and a smirk slides onto his face. “You have no right to talk about her like that,” I say, the words grinding out between my teeth. “You have no idea what she’s been through. Before and after you.”

“That really bothers you, huh? What are you, her senpai watchdog? I mean, I get that Tsukiko-chan’s like this cute porcelain doll, but still.” He pauses, and taps a finger on his forehead. “Hey, what time is she supposed to come in? My train leaves in ten minutes. I’d like to see her. Although, that hair of hers is rather horrible. It was all beautiful and silky and black. I don’t understand people who dye their hair. Natural colors are the best. They shine the most beautifully, don’t you think? I hate the teal. It looks fake, it makes her look —”

I launch myself at him and he’s not quick enough to dodge. We land on the ground and while he fights against me, he’s unable to break free. It doesn’t help that even though his words may be as quick and sharp as darts, his body clearly isn’t that of an athlete. I started basketball to improve my physical abilities, which were never bad in the first place. When Akashi become the captain, he increased our practice, and even provided me with a special set of abilities to use with my own discretion.

He really has no chance.

My fist lands straight onto his nose, and blood spurts out. He struggles against me, his hand grappling against mine, trying to break free, but it barely does any good.

Then, a voice cries out, “Hey! Stop!”

We both freeze, and Omura grunts underneath me and pushes me off of him.

We both turn to face the owner of the voice: Tsukiko herself.


	12. Chapter 11

“Mayuzumi-senpai,” she says, her eyes huge and staring at the both of us. “Omura-kun.”

He wipes his bloody nose on his shirt, not caring that it’s getting it blood-stained, just trying to stop the waterfall of red liquid.

“You should see someone about that,” she says to her old boyfriend.

She starts to approach him, but he backs away, glaring at her. “Stay away from me!” he says. “You and him are both crazy.” And with that, he grabs his backpack and his suitcase, and turns and runs off, blood dripping behind him.

For a moment, it looks like Tsukiko wants to call after him, but then she just shakes her head, and her hand falls to her side. She then turns to me. Says, “Are you all right, Mayuzumi-senpai?”

“I’m fine.” Mostly. Rage is still boiling through me.

“Senpai, actually, I don’t think you are.”

“What?”

“You must be so angry that you don’t even notice.”

“What?”

She lets out a laugh. “And you can’t even seem to comprehend what I’m saying.”

I just stare at her.

She says, “You have a cut on your hand. It’s bleeding. When you tackled him . . . you must’ve scraped it against the concrete.”

I lift my hand before my eyes and see that she’s right. The deep crimson liquid stains my palm. I hadn’t even noticed the pain, but now that she’s mentioned it, a small stinging is coming from my hand.

“Oh,” I say numbly.

“Come on,” she says, and she takes my hand (the one that’s not blood-stained, that is), her bag slung over her opposite shoulder. “Let’s get you somewhere where we can clean that up.”

We find a public sink and I wash the blood off my hand. She insists that I do it properly (thirty seconds under hot water).

“So you’re the one taking care of me now?” I say.

She blushes and hands me a few paper towels to dry my hands. “U-uh, I guess you could say that. But you’ve taken care of me a lot more.”

I cock my head. “That’s not necessarily true.”

In fact, she’s probably saved me a lot more times than she knows.

“How was your trip?” I ask her, as we finish, I pick up her bag (now that I won’t stain it with blood), and we begin to make our way back home.

“Good,” she says. “They didn’t try that much today. A few glares and stuff, nothing big.”

“That’s good.”

“What about you? Did you try the new fancy restaurant?”

“Yep. It was good. Homemade meatballs and all. You’d probably like it. Not as good as your meals, though.”

“What?” She stops mid-step, surprised by the words.

I turn my head back to look at her. “It’s true.”

“Senpai, you hand out compliments so few of times that I about have a heart attack each time.”

“That doesn’t make the compliment sound very pleasant. Aren’t compliments supposed to make you feel nice inside?”

“Yeah, but with yours . . .” She mutters something, but I’m unable to catch it.

“What?”

Her face reddens, and she says, “Nothing. Forget I said anything.”

I frown, but don’t press her.

As we continue to walk, several minutes pass in silence. Finally, she says, “Senpai . . . I didn’t see the whole conversation. Just the part, mainly, where you tackled Omura-kun. But . . . why did you do that? Was . . . it for me?”

I still, and she bumps into me.

I hadn’t thought much about my actions. They’d been instinct at that moment, a hot emotion fueling me.

I had done it for her. There’s no point in denying it.

Somehow, over the last few months, she’s become so close to me, that even the mere thought of someone insulting her or hurting her makes me clench my fists and my blood boil. And when Omura began to speak that way about her, and the fact that he used to _date_ her, I couldn’t stand it. My body had to move, act, do something.

I punched him.

That’s true.

But how to say that to Tsukiko?

At my silence, she continues. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. I was just wondering . . . now that I’ve had some distance from him, I can view Omura-kun more objectively. He appears to be nice on the outside, and he’s amiable to those who he likes and calls his friends. But to people he doesn’t agree with or people he simply doesn’t like, for no logical reason, he can be quite cold. If he provoked you for any reason, I can understand why you’d want to hit him . . .”

“He didn’t like your hair,” I blurt out.

“Huh?”

My face reddens and I’m glad she can’t see it in the dark. “He said he didn’t like your hair,” I mutter.

“That’s why you punched him?” She kind of sounds like she’s in awe. Perhaps of how stupid I am.

“Well . . . he was just being a jerk anyway. That’s no way to treat someone older than him. Or his ex-girlfriend.”

She bends over, and I almost ask her what’s wrong, but then I realize she’s laughing. Holding her hands across her stomach, trying to keep it in, but being unsuccessful.

“Senpai, you really are quite sensitive and overprotective, aren’t you?”

I take a step away from her — not because I don’t want to be close to her, but because I want to see her. All of her. I want to take this sight in, her laughing face, her smile, her eyes, bright and shining.

I haven’t seen her laugh like this since . . .

I say, “Why are you here?”

“What?” She wipes a tear of laughter from her eyes.

“Why are you here? With . . . me?”

“With you?” She frowns. “I don’t understand what you mean.”

“I mean . . . obviously, Omura-kun is a jerk. But I’m hardly much better. And you’re . . . you’re amazing. Bright and funny and smart and beautiful. And . . .” I swallow. “You’re no match for someone like me. You shouldn’t be at the side of a shadow.”

Her eyes are huge. “Senpai . . .”

“Do you understand?” I ask her. “No matter how you view me, I’ll never change. It’s just who I am.” I hold out my hands before me. “They say that people can’t actually change. They may want to, they may try, but they can’t.”

“And do you actually believe that?” she asks, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Maybe,” I whisper back. “I don’t know.”

The lamplight near us flickers, and for a moment, it goes out, plunging us into darkness. Not even our shadows can be seen. For several seconds, I think we stare at each other, and then the light glows back on, illuminating her face.

She says, “You didn’t turn away from me when I was broken and hurt. Even if you believe yourself to be darkness, a mere shadow, someone who can’t change their ways, I don’t believe that. And even so, I don’t think you need to change. I . . .” She trails off, her eyes going distant, unable to finish the sentence. She shakes her head slightly, clearing her thoughts, and continues. “And please stop calling yourself a shadow. I hate it when you do that.”

My hands clench. “You’re right. I’m not a shadow. A shadow . . . it’s something that _can_ change as time passes. It warps and disappears as the hour passes, and the light can effect it. Kuroko Tetsuya . . . he’s the shadow. But I’ve decided, then. I am just like the color gray. Solid and dull.”

“Stop that!” she cries, and she waves her hands in front of my face. She stands up on her tiptoes until her face is mere inches from mine and places her hands on my shoulders, gripping me hard, her fingers pressing into the skin. “If anything,” she says, “you’re the color silver. There’s a difference between silver and gray, you know? Silver shines. It has a special sheen to it, and it’s precious! Mayuzumi-senpai!” She looks almost desperate, her fingers clinging to my shirtsleeves. “You’re precious to me! Please believe that, if nothing else.”

I let loose a breath, and my hands reach up to cover hers. Her eyes enlarge. “Say, do you think that, perhaps, if I did want to change, that gray could become silver?” I give her a small smile, to let her know that everything is okay now.

She smiles back, a smile full of relief and joy. “Yes!” she says. “Definitely. If you really want it, you can polish gray to a beautiful silver. For all the world to see. And people will love it, I’m sure.”

“People?” I echo. I cock my head and raise an eyebrow at her.

Her cheeks go magenta. “Ah, well. Of course, people. Everyone. Including me. I’ll love it. I . . . I already do. Whether or not you are gray or silver or even a shadow.”

My heart begins to pound.

Perhaps there is a moment of realization for everyone. An epiphany when one realizes that they are not alone in the world; that beside them, there is someone who is also a little broken, a little strange or a little dull, and maybe that’s okay. It doesn’t matter either way, because it just helps to know that that person cares for you.

When they tell you, it somehow makes your whole world complete.

She’s still clutching at me, her eyes expectant and waiting.

“Thank you,” I whisper.

“For what?”

“For everything, of course.”

Then, I lean down and kiss her.

She lets out a small squeak of surprise at my lips against hers. But then her hands tighten against my shirt, before they move to around my neck, holding onto me as tight as she can. I encircle my own arms around her, hugging her as close to me, because I never want to let her go.

She’s so warm against me; my body feels hot and my mind feel dizzy. Her lips on mine are tentative, a bit scared but curious as well. And even underneath, I can sense the happiness she’s expressing.

I smile, and she smiles, too.

“Mayuzumi-senpai,” she says as we part.

“Hm?” My eyes are still closed.

“You . . . just kissed me.”

“Yes. That’s right.”

“It was kind of like a light novel.”

“Really?” Light novels are about the furthest thing from my mind right now.

I open my eyes to see her staring at me, her eyes even wider than usual. She nods. “And it’s . . . it’s just like I imagined it would be. My first kiss.”

“Your . . . that was your first?!”

I make a move to step back, a bit shocked, but she locks her arms around me, unwilling to let me move.

“What, did you think Omura-kun would really have kissed me?” she scoffs. “I’m glad I didn’t share my first kiss with him, though.”

“Ahh . . . does that mean . . . ?”

She glances up at me and giggles. “Yes, Senpai. That means I’m glad it was with you. Don’t be an idiot. I like you. Probably for a while now. And you are a good kisser.”

I still feel dizzy. “It was . . . okay? You’re sure?”

She punches me lightly on the chest. _“Yes.”_

“Yes?”

“Yes. Now stop questioning yourself. I’d kind of like another.”

“A-another?” I stare at her, astonished.

She rolls her eyes. “You made the first move, and yet now you’re embarrassed? You really are quite sensitive, Senpai.”

“I —”

“Fine, then. I’ll do it.”

And before I can reply, she stands on her toes, and presses her lips to mine. It takes my breath away, and for several moments, all I seem to know is her. Her hair brushing against my cheek; her hands touching my neck; her body near mine. And she . . . is mine?

I guess I do really kind of love her.

Maybe I should tell her that.

“Tsukiko,” I breathe out, separating us.

“Huh?” Her cheeks are flushed, her lips bright pink.

“I think I’m in love with you.”

“W-what?”

“I love you.”

“You just said ‘you think’ and now that’s disappeared!”

I nod, and I cup her face within my hands. “I love you,” I repeat. “Tsukiko.”

Her breath catches. “Ah . . . I see.”

I smile, feeling strangely buoyant and way happier than I have ever felt before. I take her hand in mine and say, “We really should be getting home. It’s getting late.”

We barely get a few steps before she tugs on my hand, pulling us to a stop. “Senpai, wait.”

“What is it?”

I turn back to face her. Her cheeks are bright red. “I-I-I still haven’t said . . .”

“Go on,” I prompt.

“I still haven’t said that I love you in return. So . . . I love you. Mayuzumi-senpai, I think I do. Love you and all.”

“Oh.”

“That’s your reaction?!”

“Well, you didn’t have to reply,” I tell her. “Just because I love you doesn’t mean that you have to love me back.”

“But — but —”

“Don’t get me wrong. It makes me happy. To know.”

“R-really?”

“Yes.” I grin at her. “So we’re all on the same page now, then?”

“Y-yes! I suppose.”

“Awesome! I feel a little hungry. You think you could whip something up?”

“Senpai, you seem strangely cheerful.”

“Huh? What are you talking about?”

“Are you bouncing?”

“No way.”

“You haven’t even stopped grinning.”

“Shut up.”

“That sounds more like you.” She shoots me a grin, and I feel like rolling my eyes, but instead, I just smile back, because after all, there’s really nothing that can beat that smile. And I’m completely helpless toward it.


	13. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, everybody! This is the last chapter (well, besides the epilogue, so kinda not?). I can't believe this story's almost over! Anyway, I hope you all enjoy this. Thanks for reading!

I don’t know what the exact reason is, but the next day, during lunch, Tsukiko tells me that she’s reported the bullies to her homeroom teacher.

“Really?” I say. “That’s great!”

“Yeah . . .” She fidgets slightly. “I guess that I finally realized that unless I really _did_ something, it was never going to change. And you are right _most of the time_ , Senpai. People may lose respect for me because I went to an adult, but others . . . well, I suppose I shouldn’t be friends with the people who would disrespect me for this in the first place.”

“Most of the time?”

“Is that really all you heard?”

I laugh, and wrap an arm around her, bringing her closer into me, so that the closeness of our bodies can warm us up against the cold. “I’m glad you told someone,” I say. “I don’t like seeing you get hurt.”

“Yeah. I know. You punched Omura-kun.”

“He was a jerk.”

“Undeniably.” She lays her head onto my shoulder and says, “Anyway, I think I’m going to start trying again. To make friends. Maybe, without the bullies watching my every move, I can actually do it. There are my fellow club members, of course. And there are a few girls in class who might be receptive, I think. I’ve seen one of them reading a light novel, too.”

“That is a good start, after all.”

She smiles. “Yes, it is.”

* * *

Sometimes, she still cries. Of course, that’s not surprising at all.

She’s started going back over to her house, but every now and then, she’ll come over to mine, and we’ll while away the night, not even speaking a word. Just a few small touches here and there, some slow kisses.

It hangs over us, the fact that she’s going to be leaving soon. But we try not to concentrate on that fact. Because, right now, in this present time, we are together.

There comes a time when Omura tries to call her again. Both of us are a little shocked, considering the way things turned out last time we saw him, but as soon as she sees his name, and gets over the initial surprise, she hangs up. She doesn’t even bother to answer and see what he wants.

I can’t hide my grin.

She says, “He has no business talking with me, after all. He’s the one who dumped me. And besides . . .” Her eyes slide over to me.

I lean back onto the couch. “As your boyfriend, I probably wouldn’t really enjoy you talking to other guys anyway. Especially exes.”

She rolls her eyes. “What are you, super overprotective _and_ jealous?”

”I can be very jealous. And selfish. You probably should’ve figured that out before you started dating me.”

“Well . . .” She moves a little closer. “If it’s just about me . . . I don’t think I’d mind as much.”

My eyes widen slightly, and I can feel my pulse speeding up. I lick my lips, my mouth feeling dry. “I’m also very touchy with my possessions. It’s really quite a wonder that I loaned you so many of my light novels. Normally, I wouldn’t let anyone touch them.”

She smiles. “So does that mean I’m special?”

“Ah . . . you could say that.” I squint at her. “More like, I can’t refuse anything you ask me to do.”

“Aha! That sounds great. So if I ask you to do several somersaults and meow for me, you will?”

“Not a chance.”

“Well, it was worth a try. Come on, now. Tell me more about these faults of yours.” She leans closer and I can almost feel my heart wanting to jump out of my chest.

“You really want to know?” I ask. “They’re not pleasant. I’m not a very pleasant person at all.”

“I thought we already went over this,” she says. “Besides, I love everything about you. Even your faults, your weaknesses, the fears you hold inside of you, and whatever darkness you think binds you. I want it all.” Her face is mere inches from mine now.

I breathe in. “Okay . . . um . . . well, I can be really pessimistic at times. I like to think of it as being realistic, but if I’m truthful with myself, it’s probably pessimism.”

“Senpai, I could’ve told you that.”

“I’m pretty sure you’ve tried, too.”

She laughs. “Go on.”

“Perhaps I’m shallow. I don’t really care for other people’s opinions other than my own.”

“Senpai, really. Are you just realizing all of this now?”

I frown at her. “No, I’ve always known this.”

“And yet you still act this way? You really are hilarious.”

“I never really thought about changing anything about my personality before,” I say. “But I’m going to try and be better now.”

“Mmm. Even if I think you are already silver, a beautiful and pretty pure silver.”

“What is with that description?”

She grins. “You really have gotten a lot better. Even if you still think you have these faults of yours, I believe that you’ve changed. Even before trying, you began to change.”

“Is changing like that so easy, though?” I ask her. “While I won’t argue that meeting just one person can change you and your perspectives of life, just meeting one person cannot change your fundamental personality. I think it takes more work than that.”

“Of course,” she says, her tone serious. “While I’m glad that I was able to change you to an extent, and I’m also disappointed that I can’t do more than that, I suppose it’s almost a relief that I can’t. Because I believe that for a person to really change, they have to want it themselves, and they have to want it from their core. You are the person who can change yourself. I am just the person who prompts you to do so.”

“From gray to silver, huh?”

She smiles. “Yes. And I believe you can do it.” She pokes me — and not even too gently — in the chest, right where my heart is. “I love you.”

My mind reels from the sudden words. It’s not like we haven’t said them before, but we don’t say them that often, and not just out of the blue. And . . . it still gets me every time.

“I love you, too,” I say, my voice a little rougher than usual.

Her smile widens, but then it slowly fades away. “I can’t believe . . . this is one of our last days.”

“We’re trying not to talk about that, remember?”

“You’re graduating! And I’m moving! Mayuzumi-senpai, if there’s one thing the bullies have taught me, it’s that sometimes you have to face things head on.”

I tap my fingers against my leg. I can’t deny her reasoning. Sometimes, it’s better to get things over sooner than later; talk about things rather than push them aside. “Okay. What do you want to say about it, then?”

“I . . . don’t know. Honestly. These past few months with you have probably been the happiest of my life. I’m serious. You’ve made everything around me brighter. Even when you glared at me or told me to shut up, I found myself coming back to you every day.”

“That kind of sounds like masochism.”

She laughs. “Doesn’t that mean you’re the sadist?”

“I feel like we’ve had this conversation before.”

But that aside, shouldn’t _I_ be the one saying that she makes everything better? How could I make the world around her bright? I am . . .

She continues. “I’ve loved all of our discussions about the light novels, and I loved going to all your games and watching you play. I’d love to see you in a game where you went full strength.”

“I don’t think I’m going to play basketball anymore.”

“Are you serious? But you’re so good!”

“I’m not . . . that good. Average, at best. I probably seemed better than I was simply because the rest of Rakuzan was an exceptional team.”

“I don’t think that’s true.”

“Tsukiko, you’re just way too optimistic of a person.”

“And like you just said, you’re really quite a bit of a pessimist.”

I cock my head, and then we both start to laugh. She coughs into her hand slightly, choking on her giggles, and says, “My goodness, Mayuzumi-senpai. Don’t be such a downer on yourself. You gotta be more confident in your own abilities. What are you going to do in college anyway?”

“I don’t know. Right now, I’m just going to take some general classes. And . . . see where that takes me.”

“I see. Aren’t you good at physics?”

“Mmm. Yeah.”

“What college are you going to again?”

I feel heat beginning to rise in my cheeks. I say, “Have you ever thought about what you’re going to do in the future?”

“I don’t know,” she says, not noticing the subject change. “I like cooking, but I don’t think I want to do that for the rest of my life.”

“You’d run a good homemade restaurant.”

“I like light novels, but I don’t think I’m cut out for a writer.”

“You’re good at English.”

“That’s not even the same thing!”

“Maybe you should do something with hair,” I say, twirling a purple lock through my fingers. “Learn how to do different styles. Make-up, whatever.”

“That’s so . . . flashy.”

“It seems like you, though.”

“I guess I could give it a thought. Oh, and I was thinking about getting a new color. The purple’s fading pretty fast now. What do you think next?”

“Hmm. So you’ve done teal, red, and purple now?”

“Yep.”

“Rainbow.”

“Are you serious?”

“Not really. I don’t think I would even like that, and I totally support all your colors.”

She tilts her head, considering. “Maybe not rainbow . . . but a few different colors would be cool. I’ve only done one up until now.” She bites her lip. “I don’t think I’d have enough money for it, though. Dying your hair is expensive, and even just two colors would be really costly.”

“I’ll pay for it,” I say.

“What? No, I can’t ask you to do that.”

“Think of it . . . as a graduating present. For passing your first year. And for being my girlfriend. And just because.” I shrug. My parents have always been well-off, and I’ve never really wanted for anything, so the issue of paying for her hair dye is quite small, in fact. I think she knows this also.

She says, “Are you sure?”

“Yes. Get whatever you want. I’ll fully support you. Unless it’s rainbow. Then I might puke.”

She laughs. “Even you, Senpai?”

“It’d give me a headache.”

“Don’t worry. I don’t think I could handle it either. But, Senpai, really, you never told me what college you’re going to.”

Oh. She did notice that I changed the subject and didn’t answer her question.

“Um . . .”

“Have you not decided? No, that can’t be it. You’re graduating in two days!”

I say nothing.

“Are you not going to college?!” She jumps to the worst conclusion. “Are you actually going to just skip it and go straight into work? Or — Senpai, are you moving really far away? Are you going to America? Or did none of the colleges accept you, and you’re too embarrassed to tell me?”

I push my hand over her mouth and she gasps, but quiets down. “None of that!” I say. “Sheesh. Your imagination, honestly.”

“So . . . what is it, then?”

My cheeks go bright red.

I hope she doesn’t notice.

She does.

She traces a finger across my cheeks and grins. “What’s that look for?” she says. “What’s so embarrassing about this college of yours? I’m really curious now.”

“It’s not that it’s . . . embarrassing. It’s fine. It’s just . . . It’s . . .”

“Spit it out.”

“Are you trying to imitate me now?”

“C’mon, just tell me, Senpai! I’m dying to know!”

I sigh. “The college I’m decided to go to . . . ah . . . it’s in Tokyo.”

For several moments, there’s silence. Then she says, “Tokyo? Like, Tokyo, Japan? The place where I’m going? Where I live? That Tokyo?”

“What other Tokyo is there? Silly.”

_“Oh my goodness.”_

“W-what’s that supposed to mean?”

She grips both of my arms and pulls me into her so suddenly that I don’t know how to react. Her lips slam into mine.

I melt.

Then, just as quickly, she separates from me. Her eyes are huge. “You’re moving to Tokyo!” she cries. “You’re coming to Tokyo! You’re going to college in Tokyo! Yes? Yes? Right?”

 _“Yes,”_ I say, and I laugh, though my head’s still ringing from the kiss. “I’m moving to Tokyo. I’m coming to Tokyo. I’m going to college in Tokyo!”

“Which means . . . how far are you going to be from me? Mayuzumi-senpai, how far is it?” She shakes me so hard that I almost feel my bones rattle inside me.

“About twenty minutes,” I say.

“So you _did_ look it up,” she says, grinning. “Is that why you chose a school in Tokyo?”

“Well . . . it _is_ a good school. And I’ve always wanted to move to Tokyo, anyway. I like the big city. And there’s a lot of cool stuff going on there. And they have a lot of promising programs there.”

“Senpai . . .” She narrows her eyes at me.

“Fine,” I say. “A few months ago, after you told that you were moving to Tokyo, I looked up some schools, and applied without thinking. One accepted me.”

“And . . .”

“And it was an easy choice,” I say, sighing and shaking my head, helpless to her gaze on me, “seeing as you’d kissed me right before I saw the letter.”

“Senpai, you’re so easily manipulated sometimes.”

“Only by you.”

“What is that? Are you telling me I’m your only weakness?”

“Oh, I have a lot of weaknesses. You’re just the worst.”

“Is . . . that a compliment? I can’t really tell, because ‘worst’ makes it sound bad.”

I draw her into me and lay my head on her shoulder this time. She wraps her arms around me. I say, “It’s probably a compliment.”

“Probably?”

“Definitely, then.”

“That sounds better.”

“What is it with you and always fishing for praise?”

“What’s wrong with praise? Don’t you like getting praised?”

“Not particularly. It makes me feel like they’re just trying to get on my good side.”

“You’re so pessimistic.”

“So I’ve been told.”

“But Mayuzumi-senpai, I can’t believe that you’re moving to Tokyo . . . aha.” She lets out a small laugh. “Everyone at my new school is going to be so jealous. I’ll be dating a college boy.”

“Is that something to be envious of?”

“Totally! And you’re very good-looking, too. We’ll go on lots of dates and I’ll take lots of pictures, and I’ll show them off to all my awesome friends, and they’ll be oozing with jealousy.”

“Good-looking?”

“Mayuzumi-senpai, is that all you focused on? Did you not care for that compliment?”

“Well, if it’s coming from you . . .” I straighten up and look her in the eyes. “Furthermore, when are you going to stop addressing me so formally? We _are_ dating, after all. I don’t mind if you call me by my first name. You had me calling you by your first name from the very first few times.”

Her eyes widen slightly. “Y-your first name?”

“What are you getting all embarrassed for?” I chide. “Didn’t you call Omura-kun by his first name?”

“Well, I did . . . but you’re different.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I mean, obviously first names are a huge step forward. Omura-kun and I began to call each other by our first names quite early on. And, to be honest, I had you call me by my first name because . . . I wanted someone to say my name. Someone else other than him. I didn’t want to hear his voice staining my name anymore. It was a selfish request. I’m sorry.”

“I don’t mind,” I say.

“Senpai, are you cracking your knuckles?”

“Never mind that. Continue.”

“Ah, anyway. I suppose I’m still calling you ‘senpai’ because I wanted our relationship to be serious before I decided that I would call you by your first name.”

“This isn’t serious?” I blink a few times and begin to lean back, but she stops me.

“No. No. That’s not what I meant! Don’t get me wrong. I would never have said I loved you if I didn’t think it was serious. I _do_ think it’s serious. I just suppose . . . these last few months, I’ve gotten a bit comfortable. And calling you by your first name seems like another big step.” She blushes.

“That’s not fair,” I grumble. “I’ve always called you by your first name. So I don’t see how you should get away from saying mine. Besides, if we’re going to still be dating when I’m in college, there’s a chance you’ll meet my parents. And they’re both Mayuzumi, you know? Then that’s weird.”

“But they’d be –san, and you’d be –senpai. Difference.”

“Stop trying to get out of it.”

“F-fine! Mayuzumi-senpai, I’ll do it!”

“You just contradicted yourself, I think.”

“I — I mean, Ch-Ch-Ch-Ch—”

I snigger and she glares at me. I cough. “Take your time. I have nothing going on.”

“Chihiro,” she whispers.

I feel a slight shiver down my back.

After finally saying it, she seems to brighten, returning to her normal flamboyant self. “Or,” she says, “I could call you Chihiro-chan? Chi-chan? Or — hey, what about Chi-cchi? That sounds great!”

“Don’t you dare.”

She lets out a loud laugh, and says, “Chihiro, then?”

“That’s fine as it is. You’re just Tsukiko, after all.”

“Just Tsukiko?”

“You know what I mean.”

“Chihiro,” she says again. She smiles, a broad grin that creates flutters in my stomach. “I like it. I’m glad you made me say it, Sen— I mean, Chihiro. That’s right. I can’t call you Senpai, anymore. Especially if you’re graduating.”

“Yes, so your differentiation between –san and –senpai wouldn’t have even worked.”

She gives me a small scowl. “No need to point out my flaws in reasoning. Chihiro.”

“I think you’re saying it weird.”

“Weird? What’s weird about it? Chihiro. Chihiro.”

“Not that’s _really_ weird.”

“I am not saying it weird! I’m just trying out . . . different inflections.”

“That’s saying it weird.”

“Whatever, Sen— Chihiro.”

I just smile. “You’ll get used to it. As much as you’re saying it.”

“Yes!” she says. “I’ll make it my personal goal to use it in every sentence I say. Chihiro.”

“Now, I’m not quite sure I can handle that.”

“You’re the one who wanted me to start saying it!”

“But that’s just overkill.”

In reality, I don’t really mind. I actually love her saying it. Because, honestly . . . why wouldn’t I?

Tsukiko stares at me, her lips slightly parted, and her eyes with a curious look in them.

I say, “After I graduate, I’m moving into the college dorm. I’ve already found a roommate. He seems like a decent enough person. Hopefully he won’t annoy me.”

“That would be so awful.”

“My parents might be getting an apartment in Tokyo, too. For whenever they decide to live in Japan.”

“I’d like to meet them.”

“They’d like you. Probably more than me.”

“Sen— Chihiro, you really should stop acting like that.”

“Sorry. I’ll do better next time.”

“More importantly,” she says, “I’d like to confirm something else. Since it could be said we’re still on the topic of us separating — but not really separating?”

“Yes? What is it?”

“When I first came up to the roof, and started talking to you, did you foresee this?”

“Can’t say that I did. Honestly, I just saw you as an irritating first-year.”

She smiles. “That’s what I thought.”

“What about you?” I ask. “Did you think this would happen?” I motion to my arm around her, and her shoulder pressed against mine.

She says, “No. I didn’t think so either. I never thought I’d fall in love with you. I never even thought we’d really be that good of friends. I thought . . . maybe we’d become friends. I really just wanted someone I could talk to, and I thought maybe you could be that person. But what I got was better than I ever imagined . . . and when I realized I was beginning to like you . . . a lot more than I ever cared for Omura-kun . . . it kind of scared me at first. But then it was a wonderful feeling as well. It was liberating, like the cage around my heart was beginning to unlock. Like I could step anywhere, go through any door. I kind of wanted to do it with you.”

“You . . . felt all that?”

“Yeah. What did you feel?”

“Honestly?”

“Yes. I want your honest thoughts. And besides, Chihiro, when have you ever not been honest with me? Even to the point of brutality?”

“Well . . . I might’ve just thought that you were the only person that could alter my perception and make me do things that I wasn’t accustomed to. And that I really kind of wanted to kiss you.”

“Wow. That’s really deep.”

“Is that sarcasm?”

“Ah . . . do I have to answer that?”

I roll my eyes, but I draw her closer once again, and kiss the top of her head. She breathes in, and grips the front of my shirt, ducking her head underneath my chin and pressing her forehead against my chest.

“I can feel your heartbeat,” she says.

“Feel it? Not hear it?”

“Was that a strange choice of words? I thought that maybe ‘feel’ might work better in this instance. I mean, I can hear it, too, but I can feel it beating. It seems so strong and safe and steady. And I’m glad . . .” She trails off, not finishing.

“You’re glad that what?”

“I’m glad . . .” Her voice is very soft now. “I’m glad that I could be the one to hold it. Your heart.”

My breath catches. “You really have it all, you know.”

Even though I can’t see her face, I can almost feel her smiling. “All of it?”

“All of it,” I say, surety flowing through me.

“That makes me happy . . . because I don’t think you’re the type of person to say that lightly.”

“You’re right. I’m not.”

“Does that make me special?”

She’s asked that question before.

She doesn’t know how much.

I lift her head up, and her eyes shimmer as they stare into mine.

“You don’t know how much,” I whisper.

She smiles.

And I can feel it inside me, the feeling that started out small but then grew into something so big and overwhelming that it never seems to disappear anymore and that I can’t seem to remember what it felt like for it to not be there . . . I can feel it growing even more and more, till it feels like it might explode inside of me.

I say, “Thank you . . . for everything. I love you. Tsukiko. I love you.”

“I should be saying the same thing.”

“Maybe we should say it together, then?”

“Okay. Together. That sounds . . . really nice.”

We link our fingers together, and by some internal countdown, we both say, _“Thank you.”_ We smile at each other, unable to contain the joy bursting within us. _“I love you.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So cheesy. I'm not very good with romances sometimes, I think? Anyways, a lot of talk in this chapter (and she finally calls him by his first name!). A bit more lighthearted than the last few. Also, I meant to make a note on this before, but on Japanese colleges . . . well, obviously I'm not Japanese, so I'm not entirely sure how their college stuff works. In all actuality, I think most kids in Japan start thinking about what they want to do in their second year of high school, with help from their homeroom teacher, and choose a college based on that and stuff. There are entrance examinations, cram schools, and recommendation stuff. It's most likely a very involved process. As such, I probably portrayed it wrong in this story. But . . . oh well. Too late to change it now. 
> 
> Thanks for reading.
> 
> ~ J. Dominique


	14. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe this is the last chapter. I really hope you enjoy this last part to Monochrome. As I've mentioned before, since this is the epilogue, similar to the prologue, it's from Tsukiko's POV. Like most of my epilogues, it turned out longer than I expected. I hope you enjoy!

The first term of my second-year in high school seems to have flown by at an exceptional pace. Before I know it, summer break is upon us, and I’m fully looking forward to spending the whole time with my boyfriend, Mayuzumi Chihiro.

I still get shivers from saying that. Even thinking it, it makes me want to jump up and down and giggle. It makes my face go red and my pulse speed up and then I’m overwhelmed with a desire to see him right then, and hold his hands, and kiss him.

Ah, goodness, I’m crazy for him.

It’s a wonder that he’s the person I decided to fall for.

Before, I would’ve thought my type was someone cheerful. Maybe a bit of a nerd. A friendly, nice person who got along well with others and could keep me aloft.

Not exactly someone who spent most of his time on rooftops or wandering around the city alone. Not someone whose company were characters in light novels or someone whose views were so strong that they could overpower my own, rather than compromise with me. Not someone who could be harsh and cold, but sometimes display unwavering kindness and consideration.

Not Mayuzumi Chihiro.

But somehow, I did fall in love him. Surely and steadily, I fell. And I don’t regret it.

With his college being a level above high school, and my own school getting increasingly harder, we haven’t had a ton of time to spend together. But we’ve managed to at least see each other once a week, and it’s better than what I had imagined several months ago (not seeing him at all, except for maybe breaks . . . and that was provided the long-distance relationship didn’t break us apart).

Since he’s not as familiar with Tokyo, there’s a whole host of new places for him to explore, and we spend most of our times going around the city and trying out various restaurants and scouting out the best bookstores with the widest selection of light novels (not that he has as much time to read anymore).

Today, we’ve planned to meet up in a park about midway between our locations. Then, we have the whole rest of the day to do whatever want. And the whole rest of the summer! I’ve never looked forward to a summer so much before.

As I enter the park, my eyes begin to immediately search for him. He’s always the one who’s waiting on me. As much as I try to be earlier than him, there’s always something that makes me run late. Whether it’s I spill coffee on my shirt and have to run back into the house to get a new one, or I drop my book bag and have to stop and pick everything up, or I just lose track of time.

He’s so punctual, it almost gets on my nerves.

But I suppose I don’t really mind. Because I always look forward to seeing him when I arrive at our meeting place. Though I would like to surprise him at least once.

Per usual, he’s already here. But he’s lying on the ground, his hands under his head, a light novel flipped open over his face.

Is he sleeping?

I sneak up over to him as quietly as I can, and lift the book off his face. His eyes remain closed, his breathing steady. My own breath trips over itself, though.

When I first met him, I didn’t really think about anything. But right now, the sun shining directly onto his face . . . he looks so beautiful. Maybe that’s a weird way to say it, but it’s true. His light silver hair, his pale skin (maybe we should try hitting a few beaches this summer), and the lips that I’ve become quite familiar with over the last few months.

I lean down and press my own against them.

His eyes open, and I feel him shift beneath me. “Tsukiko?” he murmurs against my lips.

“Ahh. Were you awake?”

“Maybe. I don’t know.”

“You don’t know? How can you not know?” I squint at him and his gray eyes stare back up at me.

At first, I thought they were blank and unfeeling. So cold and distant. But now . . . I can see the warmness hidden inside, tucked a little deep, but not so far that you can’t find it if you dig. And now, they stare up at me with a different expression than we first met.

And it sets my skin afire.

“Did you just kiss me?” he says.

“Sorry,” I say. “Couldn’t resist. You look so peaceful when you sleep. You don’t glare at me or anything.”

“I don’t glare at you.”

“Oh. Okay.”

He shifts up so suddenly that I tumble backwards, but his hand darts out and grabs my wrist to steady me. He says, “What’s that tone of doubt I hear?”

“Hahaha. Nothing, nothing.”

He rolls his eyes. “Whatever.”

“But the question is: How did you fall asleep in the first place? I mean, it _is_ kind of warm and nice. And the sky is pretty. But the ground is hard. And there was a book over your face. That’s hardly comfortable.” I glance at the light novel that I’d placed aside. “Was it really boring or something?”

He fakes a yawn. A terrible imitation of the real thing, really. “I guess you could say college is quite draining,” he says.

“Well, we could do something relaxing today. Go to a movie. Or we could do something pumping to wake you up.”

“I think I’d rather do the former. If you don’t mind me using your arm as a pillow.”

“You are _not_ going to pay for a movie ticket just to sleep through it.”

“I don’t see a problem with it. You’ll enjoy it, won’t you? And I’ll enjoy you enjoying it.”

“Ugh . . .”

He grins at me, and slides an arm around me, before pulling me close and landing a kiss on my neck. I shiver, despite the warm weather. “How’s first day of break?” he asks.

“Well, pretty good. Now that I’m here with you.”

“Do I make everything better?”

“Are you flirting?”

“Is it working?”

“Mmm. It might be more enjoyable than your scowling.”

“I don’t scowl at you.”

“Ahaha. Right.”

“Again. The tone of doubt.”

“But to answer your question, I suppose you could say that you make everything better. Isn’t that what a boyfriend is supposed to do after all?”

“That’s quite a strange position for me to play. But if you insist, I’ll continue.”

I grin at him. “Aha! You have gotten better. Before, you just would’ve said some junk about being a shadow and that you can’t make anything better.”

“Really?” He sounds almost bored. He rubs circles against my palm.

I roll my eyes. “At the least, I’m glad you’re trying.”

He glances up at me and his gaze softens. “Well, I am. My self-worth is hardly something worth praising.”

“I like your self.”

“That doesn’t sound right.”

“I like you, then?”

He sighs, but I can see a ghost of a smile on his face. He points to the light novel on the ground. “Read to me, why don’t you?”

“Read to you?”

“Yeah. I’m sleepy.” He lies back onto the ground, falling into the same position that I’d found him in a few minutes earlier, and closes his eyes. “Don’t feel like keeping my eyes open. And I want to listen to your voice.”

“You won’t actually fall asleep, will you?”

“I’ll try not to.”

“If you do, I’m going to slap you back awake.”

“Ah . . . okay, then. Try not to do to it too hard. Actually, you could just kiss me awake again. That was nice last time.”

“Does that make you Sleeping Beauty then?”

“That doesn’t sound very attractive, but sure, whatever. I’ll be cursed for your sake, as the charming prince.”

I pick up the light novel. “Very well, then.”

I begin to read at the start of the new chapter where he had left it open. As my voice falls into a natural rhythm, I see his breathing even out, and his body begin to relax.

I think he really is falling asleep, despite trying not to.

I wonder if I should slap him with the light novel.

Or kiss him awake, like he suggested.

The latter _does_ sound kind of appealing.

But then I wonder if he’s just trying to bait me into getting another kiss. That would be like him.

But I’m not exactly against more kisses, am I?

I sigh, read a few more paragraphs, then give up when he hasn’t moved for several minutes and gives no sign of even listening.

I lean over him, and move a lock of his silver hair away from his eyes. My breath catches as my fingers brush his forehead. He still doesn’t move.

“And the charming prince considered the Sleeping Beauty,” I mutter.

His eyes twitch under his eyelids, and that’s when I know I’ve made a mistake.

Before I can react, he’s shifted. He grabs me, and flips me over, until I’m the one with my back on the ground and he’s now over me.

He leans close, his lips near my neck, and says, “You know what? I never really actually liked that story. The protagonist is so stupid and does nothing the whole time but injure herself and sleep and give everyone else trouble. And how come the one person who kisses her just happens to be her true love? Fairy tales are so unrealistic and cliché. Also, I don’t want to be Sleeping Beauty. That sounds awful.”

“Chihiro, are you saying you don’t want to be a beautiful princess?”

“Do you really want to be the charming prince?”

“Well, there _is_ a certain charm to running with my sword out to save you from death and poisonous sleep and dragons.”

His hands are still clamped around my wrists, pinning me to the ground. Our bodies are so close; I feel hot all over.

He says, “I take it back. I’m not tired anymore. Actually, I feel very, very awake.”

I blink several times.

“So let’s do it now.”

“Do what?” I ask, uncomprehending.

“Let’s write our own story. Starting now. Or maybe . . . maybe it started a long time ago. That first day. When you were just an annoying first-year brat.”

“That’s mean.”

“But true.”

“Still mean.”

“Doesn’t make it untrue.”

“Doesn’t hide the fact that it’s mean.”

He waves a careless hand.

“But I like the idea,” I say. “I think I get what you mean. A story . . . about us? Like our life stories. The two protagonists . . . the girl with rainbow-colored hair and the boy who hid himself in the shadows but had a shining silver heart.”

He winds his fingers around my hair, currently dyed two shades of pink. “By rainbow, you just mean changing shades, right?”

“Stop worrying about the rainbow thing, okay? I’m never going to come in spouting hair the color of the Generation of Miracles.”

“Thank goodness.”

I continue. “The boy and girl met over chance. The girl was running from monsters who sought to destroy her, while the boy sought safety in written words in his rooftop house. When the girl entered his habitat —”

“Why do I sound like I’m a zoo animal?”

“Um, dwelling?”

“Now it sounds like I’m a hermit or something.”

“Fine, you choose the word.”

“Tree house sounds too kiddish.” He considers. “Abode. Go with abode.”

“That makes you sound a lot wiser than you are.”

He gives me a mocking look. I continue on. “The girl entered his _abode_ and she asked him for help. At first, he turned her away. But she persisted, and eventually, she melted the boy’s iron walls, and the two became accomplices. Together, they defeated the monsters that chased her down and promised to devour her. She could only owe it to the boy, and she was so grateful to him.”

“But the boy himself had his own problems,” he says, taking over the story. “He hid a poison inside him, that could destroy his life, as well as others. He didn’t know how to tell the girl, yet as time went on, she came to know it, and did not turn away. Shocked as he was, he welcomed her into his life.”

“Yet life took another twist. The girl’s mother —” I stop, feeling a lump forming in my throat, and he places a hand around mine. “The girl’s mother passed away. The girl was distraught, and for a while, she did not visit the boy. But when she returned to his treetop abode, she found that there was no place else that felt safer than in his arms. And there was no other place that she’d rather be than beside him.”

“The girl was to return to her hometown,” he says, gripping my hand in his. “The boy couldn’t stand the thought, the girl having become close to him after all their interactions. So he made provisions to move to her hometown as well. Yet he did not tell her, because even he was unsure what his feelings toward her was.”

“One day, someone from the girl’s past approached the boy, and the two got into a fight over the girl.” I blush slightly over it, thinking about the fact that anyone would fight over me. “But then the girl appeared on the scene, and interrupted them. She sent the boy from her past away, once and for all. And after that moment, she and the boy declared their feelings to each other.”

He’s wearing a very soft expression on his face. I can feel my insides turning to mush.

We need to catch the story up to the present, though. Just a bit more.

“When the girl realized he was to move to her hometown with her,” I say, “she was overjoyed. She could barely contain, the happiness inside of her. And . . . she realized then that she might really want to spend the rest of her life with him.”

His breath catches.

I’ve never told him that.

That moment of certainty that I’d felt several months ago, that one night. That feeling that has been growing ever since.

“And he wonders, too,” he says, his voice soft. “The boy thinks that he might just have a home with her. Right by her side, he thinks he could be happy forever.”

I close my eyes, and in that moment, I find his lips on mine.

We stay like that for several moments, until neither of us can breathe anymore. Then we separate, gasping a bit.

He says, “I think you once told me that you wouldn’t leave me.”

“I won’t,” I say. “I won’t.”

“Good.” He smiles. “Because I’ve told you how selfish I can be, right? And I really don’t want you to leave. And I really want to stay with you. As long as you can.”

“That sounds nice,” I breathe out, unable to comprehend the feeling inside me, the feeling that is rising and overflowing and bubbling over. “That sounds really nice.”

For a moment, he doesn’t say anything, just grins down at me.

I find myself smiling back, because I love his smile. When I first met him, I barely saw it all. But then, it began to pop up every now and then, each time startling but beautiful. And I began to become familiar with it . . . and then I began to fall in love with it. The way it changes his whole demeanor and it makes him look younger, more boyish, and just . . . I love it.

And I love him.

And I don’t want this moment to ever end.

I say, “This story . . . let’s say it goes on for infinity, okay? There won’t be an end. It’s not a stand-alone novel. Not a series, either. It just goes on forever and ever and ever.”

His eyes brighten slightly. “A story with no end? I like the sound of it. I don’t think anyone’s tried it before. Granted, if someone did write it down and kept on writing it forever, I think readers might get bored. But with ours . . .”

“With ours,” I say, smiling up at him, “I don’t think I will ever stop loving it.”

“No,” he says. “No, because that’s the thing: you make up the story. You are the life of it. You brighten the pages and color the darkness. I will never stop being in love with this story, because I’ll never stop loving you.”

And I know, for sure, that he is right. So I don’t say anything more; there is no need. Instead, I just kiss him once again, conveying all my feelings and all my love for him, and he responds in kind.

This story . . . it started out simple enough. But now, it has turned into something more incredible than I could ever have imagined.

I can’t wait to see what the next chapter is about. And the one after that. And the infinite amount that the two of us will write.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've pretty much mentioned everything I wanted to say already, but thanks once again! You guys are awesome. 
> 
> Thank you for reading Monochrome. I hope you all enjoyed this story, and even if you didn't, I appreciate you checking it out (though if you're reading this, the last chapter, that probably means something, right?). Anyways, see you all next time!
> 
> ~ J. Dominique


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